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PHROSO 

By ANTHONY HOPE 
Author of ^^The Heart of Princess Osra^ 


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FETCH HER BACK FROM THERE, IF YOU CAN 









PHROSO 


By 

ANTHONY HOPE - 

Author of 

^ The Prisoner of Zenda,^^ ^^The Heart of 
Princess Osra,^ ^ Simon Dale,^ Etc# 


NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 



'Ok 


Copyright^ 1396 
By A* H* Hawkins 


Copyright^ \397 

By Frederick A* Stokes Company 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 


PAGE 

I. 

A Longf Thingf Endmgf m --poulos. 

t 

IL 

A Conservative Country 

20 

m. 

The Fever of Neopalia 

4J 

IV. 

A Raid and a Raider 

60 

V. 

The Cottage on the Hill 

79 

VI. 

The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander 

97 

VII. 

The Secret of the Stefanopouloi 

m 

vm. 

A Knife at a Rope 

136 

IX. 

Hats off to SU Tryphon ! 

J54 

X. 

The Justice of the Island 

J76 

XI. 

The Last Card 

J95 

XII. 

Law and Order 

213 

xin. 

The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha 

233 

xrv. 

A Stroke in the Game 

254 

XV. 

A Strange Escape 

274 

XVI. 

An Unfinished Letter 

294 

xvn. 

In the Jaws of the Trap 

315 

XVIII. 

The Unknown Friend 

336 

XIX. 

The Armenian Dog! 

353 

XX. 

A Public Promise 

374 

XXI. 

A Word of Various Meanings 

394 

xxn. 

One More Run 

415 

xxin. 

The Island in a Calm 

435 



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V 



Phroso: A Romance* 


BY ANTHONY HOPE. 

CHAPTER L 

A Longf Thing; Ending; in -poulos, 

Quot homines tot sententice : so many men, so 
many fancies. My fancy was for an island. 
Perhaps boyhood’s glamour hung yet round sea- 
girt rocks, and faery lands forlorn ” still beck- 
oned me; perhaps I felt that London was too 
full, the Highlands rather fuller, the Swiss moun- 
tains most insufferably crowded of them all, 
Money can buy company, and it can buy retire- 
ment. The latter service I asked now of the 
moderate wealth with which my poor cousin 
Tom’s death had endowed me. Everybody was 
good enough to suppose that I rejoiced at Tom’s 
death, whereas I was particularly sorry for it, 
and was not consoled even by the prospect of 
the island. My friends understood this wish for 


2 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


an island as little as they appreciated my feelings 
about poor Tom. Beatrice was most emphatic 
in declaring that “ a horrid little island ” had no 
charms for her, and that she would never set foot 
in it. This declaration was rather annoying, be- 
cause I had imagined myself spending my honey- 
moon with Beatrice on the island ; but life is not 
all honeymoon, and I decided to have the island 
none the less. Besides, I was not to be married 
for a year. Mrs. Kennett Hipgrave had insisted 
on this delay in order that we might be sure that 
we knew our own hearts. And as I may say, 
without unfairness, that Mrs. Hipgrave was to a 
considerable degree responsible for the engage- 
ment, — she asserted the fact herself with much 
pride, — I thought that she had a right to some 
voice in the date of the marriage. Moreover the 
postponement just gave me the time to go over 
and settle affairs in the island. 

For I had bought it. It cost me seven thou- 
sand five hundred and fifty pounds, — rather a 
fancy price, but I could not haggle with the old 
Lord — half to be paid to the Lord’s bankers in 
London, and the second half to him in Neopalia 
when he delivered possession to me. The Turkish 
Government had sanctioned the sale, and I had 
agreed to pay a hundred pounds yearly as tri- 
bute. This sum I was entitled, in my turn, to 
levy on the inhabitants. 


3 


A Long Thing Ending in •-poulos. 

In fact, my dear Lord Wheatley,’’ said old 
Mason to me when I called on him in Lincoln’s 
Inn Fields, the whole affair is settled. I con- 
gratulate you on having got just what was your 
whim. You are over a hundred miles from the 
nearest land — Rhodes, you see.” (He laid a map 
before me.) You are off the steamship tracks ; 
the Austrian Lloyds to Alexandria leave you far 
to the northeast. You are equally remote from 
any submarine cable ; here on the southwest, 
from Alexandia to Candia, is the nearest. You 
will have to fetch your letters.” 

I shouldn’t think of doing such a thing,” 
said I indignantly. 

‘‘ Then you’ll only get them once in three 
months. Neopalia is extremely rugged and 
picturesque. It is nine miles long and five broad ; 
it grows cotton, wine, oil, and a little corn. The 
people are quite unsophisticated, but very good- 
hearted.” 

And,” said I, there are only three hundred 
and seventy of them all told. I really think I 
shall do very well there.’* 

‘‘ I’ve no doubt you will. By the way, treat 
the old gentleman kindly. He’s terribly cut up 
at having to sell. ‘ My dear island,’ he writes, 
‘ is second to my dead son’s honour, and to noth- 
ing else.’ His son, you know, was a bad lot, — a 
very bad lot indeed.” 


4 


Phtosoi A Romance* 


‘‘ He left a heap of unpaid debts, didn't he? " 

“Yes, gambling debts. He spent his time 
knocking about Paris and London with his 
cousin Constantine, — by no means an improving 
companion, if report speaks truly. And your 
money is to pay the debts, you know." 

“ Poor old chap," said I. I sympathised with 
him in the loss of his island. 

“ Here’s the house, you see," said Mason, turn- 
ing to the map and dismissing the sorrows of the 
old Lord of Neopalia, — “ about the middle of 
the island, nearly a thousand feet above the sea. 
Pm afraid it’s a tumble-down old place, and will 
swallow a lot of money without looking much 
better for the dose. To put it into repair for 
the reception of the future Lady Wheatley would 
cost " 

“The future Lady Wheatley says she won’t 
go there on any account," I interrupted. 

“ But, my very dear lord," cried he, aghast, “ if 
she won’t ’’ 

“She won’t, and there’s an end of it, Mr. 
Mason. Well, good day. I’m to have possession 
in a month ? ’’ 

“ In a month to the very day — on the yth of 
May." 

“ All right ; I shall be there to take it." 

Escaping from the legal quarter, I made my 
way to my sister’s house in Cavendish Square. 


A Long Thing Ending in -poutos. 5 

She had a party, and I was bound to go by 
brotherly duty. As luck would have it, how- 
ever, I was rewarded for my virtue (and if that’s 
not luck in this huddle-muddle world I don’t 
know what is) : the Turkish Ambassador dropped 
in, and presently James came and took me up to 
him. My brother-in-law, James Cardew, is always 
anxious that I should know the right people. 
The Pasha received me with great kindness. 

‘‘You are the purchaser of Neopalia, aren’t 
you ? he asked, after a little conversation. 
“ The matter came before me officially.” 

“ Tm much obliged,” said I, “ for your ready 
consent to the transfer.” 

“ Oh, it’s nothing to us. In fact our tribute, 
such as it is, will be safer. Well, I’m sure I hope 
you’ll settle in comfortably.” 

“ Oh, I shall be all right. I know the Greeks 
very well, you see — been there a lot, and, of 
course, I talk the tongue, because I spent two 
years hunting antiquities in the Morea and some 
of the islands.” 

The Pasha stroked his beard, as he observed 
in a calm tone, — 

“The last time a Stefanopoulos tried to sell 
Neopalia, the people killed him, and turned 
the purchaser — he was a Frenchman, a Baron 
d’Ezonville — adrift in an open boat, with noth- 
ing on but his shirt.” 


Phroso A Romance* 


** Good heavens ! Was that recently ? ’’ 

No ; two hundred years ago. But it's a con« 
servative part of the world, you know.’* And 
his Excellency smiled. 

‘‘ They were described to me as good-hearted 
folk,” said I ; ‘‘ unsophisticated, of course, but 
good-hearted.” 

‘‘ They think that the island is theirs, you 
see,” he explained, and that the Lord has no 
business to sell it. They may be good-hearted, 
Lord Wheatley, but they are tenacious of their 
rights.” 

‘‘But they can’t have any rights,” I expostu- 
lated. 

“ None at all,” he assented. “ But a man is 
never so tenacious of his rights as when he hasn’t 
any. However, autres temps autres mceurs ; I 
don’t suppose you’ll have any trouble of that 
kind. Certainly I hope not, my dear lord.” 

‘'Surely your Government will see to that?” 
I suggested. 

His Excellency looked at me ; then, although 
by nature a grave man, he gave a low humorous 
chuckle, and regarded me with visible amusement. 

“ Oh, of course, you can rely on that. Lord 
Wheatley,” said he. 

^‘That is a diplomatic assurance, your Excel- 
lency?” I ventured to suggest, with a smile. 

“ It is unofficial,” said he, “ but as binding as 


7 


A Long Thing Ending in ^poulos. 

if it were official. Our Governor in that district 
of the empire is a very active man — yes, a de* 
cidedly active man.'* 

The only result of this conversation was that, 
when I was buying my sporting guns in St. 
James’s Street the next day, I purchased a couple 
of pairs of revolvers at the same time. It is well 
to be on the safe side, and although I attached 
little importance to the by-gone outrage of which 
the Ambassador spoke, I did not suppose that 
the police service would be very efficient. In 
fact I thought it prudent to be ready for any 
trouble that the old-world notions of the Neopa- 
lians might occasion. But in my heart I meant 
to be very popular with them. For I cherished 
the generous design of paying the whole tribute 
out of my own pocket, and of disestablishing in 
Neopalia what seems to be the only institution 
in no danger of such treatment here — the tax- 
gatherer, If they understood that intention of 
mine, they would hardly be so short-sighted as 
to set me adrift in my shirt like a second Baron 
d’Ezonville, or so unjust as to kill poor old 
Stefanopoulos as they had killed his ancestor. 
Besides, as I comforted myself by repeating, they 
were a good-hearted race ; unsophisticated, of 
course, but throughly good-hearted. 

My cousin, young Denny Swinton, was to 
dme with me that evening at the Optimum. 


s 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


Denny (a familiar form of Dennis) was the only 
member of the family who sympathised thor- 
oughly with me about Neopalia. He was wild 
with interest in the island, and I looked forward 
to telling him all I had heard about it. I knew 
he would listen, for he was to go with me and 
help me to take possession. The boy had almost 
wept on my neck when I asked him to come ; he 
had just left Woolwich, and was not to join his 
battalion for six months ; he was thus, as he put 
it, at a loose end,’* and succeeded in persuading 
his parents that he ought to learn modern Greek. 
General Swinton was rather cold about the pro- 
ject; he said that Denny had spent ten years on 
ancient Greek, and knew nothing about it, and 
probably would not learn much of the newer 
sort in three months; but his wife thought it 
would be a nice trip for Denny. Well, it turned 
out to be a very nice trip for Denny ; but if Mrs. 

Swinton had known however, if it comes to 

that, I might just as well exclaim, ‘‘If I had 
known myself ! ** 

Denny had taken a table next but one to the 
west end of the room, and was drumming his 
fingers impatiently on the cloth when I entered. 
He wanted both his dinner and the latest news 
about Neopalia; so I sat down and made haste 
to satisfy him in both respects. Travelling with 
equal steps through the two matters, we had 


9 


A Long 1*hing Ending in ^poutos. 

reached the first entr/e and the fate of the mur- 
dered Stefanopoulos (which Denny, for some 
reason, declared was “ a lark ”), when two people 
came in and sat down at the table beyond ours 
and next to the wall, where two chairs had been 
tilted up in token of pre-engagement. The man 
—for the pair were man and woman— was tall 
and powerfully built ; his complexion was dark, 
and he had good, regular features; he looked 
also as if he had a bit of a temper somewhere 
about him. I was conscious of having seen him 
before, and suddenly recollected that by a curi- 
ous chance I had run up against him twice in 
St. James’s Street that very day. The lady was 
handsome ; she had an Italian cast of face, and 
moved with much grace ; her manner was rather 
elaborate, and, when she spoke to the waiter, I 
detected a pronounced foreign accent. Taken 
together, they were a remarkable couple and 
presented a distinguished appearance. I believe 
I am not a conceited man, but I could not help 
wondering whether their thoughts paid me a sim- 
ilar compliment. For I certainly detected both 
of them casting more than one curious glance 
towards our table ; and when the man whispered 
once to a waiter, I was sure that I formed the 
subject of his question ; perhaps he also remem- 
bered our two encounters. 

“ I wonder if there’s any chance of a row I ” said 


to Plifoso: A Romance* 

Denny in a tone that sounded wistful. Going 
to take anybody with you, Charley?'' 

“ Only Watkins ; I must have him ; he always 
knows where everything is ; and I've told Hog- 
vardt, my old dragoman, to meet us in Rhodes. 
He'll talk their own language to the beggars, you 
know." 

But he's a German, isn't he? " 

He thinks so," I answered. He’s not cer- 
tain, you know. Anyhow, he chatters Greek like 
a parrot. He's a pretty good man in a row, too. 
But there won't be a row, you know." 

‘‘ I suppose there won’t," admitted Denny rue- 
fully. 

^‘For my own part," said I meekly, ‘‘as I'm 
going for the sake of quiet, I hope there won’t." 

In the interest of conversation I had forgotten 
our neighbours ; but now, a lull occurring in 
Denny's questions and surmises, I Heard the lady's 
voice. She began a sentence — and began it in 
Greek ! That was a little unexpected ; but it was 
more strange that her companion cut her short, 
saying very peremptorily, “Don't talk Greek; 
talk Italian." This he said in Italian, and I, 
though no great hand at that language, under- 
stood so much. Now why shouldn’t the lady 
talk Greek, if Greek were the language that came 
naturally to her tongue? It would be as good a 
shield against eavesdroppers as most languages; 


A Long Thing Ending in -poulos. it 

unless, indeed, I, who was known to be an ama- 
teur of Greece and Greek things, were looked 
upon as a possible listener. Recollecting the 
glances which I had detected, recollecting again 
those chance meetings, I ventured on a covert 
gaze at the lady. Her handsome face expressed 
a mixture of anger, alarm, and entreaty. The 
man was speaking to her now in low urgent tones ; 
he raised his hand once, and brought it down on 
the table as though to emphasise some declara- 
tion — perhaps some promise — which he was mak- 
ing. She regarded him with half-angry, distrust- 
ful eyes. He seemed to repeat his words, and 
she flung at him in a tone that grew suddenly 
louder, and in words that I could translate : 

Enough! ril see to that. I shall come too.'' 

Her heat stirred no answering fire in him. He 
dropped his emphatic manner, shrugged a tolerant 
As you will," with eloquent shoulders, smiled 
at her, and, reaching across the table, patted her 
hand. She held it up before his eyes, and with 
the other hand pointed at a ring on her finger. 

‘‘Yes, yes, my dearest," said he, and he was 
about to say more when, glancing round, he 
caught my gaze retreating in hasty confusion to 
my plate. I dared not look up again, but I felt 
his scowl on me. I suppose that I deserved 
punishment for my eavesdropping. 

“ And when can we get off, Charley ? " asked 


Phfoso: A Romance# 

Denny in his clear young voice. My thoughts 
had wandered from him, and I paused for a mo- 
ment as a man does when a question takes him 
unawares. There was silence at the next table 
also. The fancy seemed absurd, but it occurred 
to me that there too my answer was being waited 
for. Well, they could know if they liked ; it was 
no secret. 

In a fortnight,” said I. We’ll travel easily, 
and get there on the 7th of next month ; that’s 
the day on which I’m entitled to take over my 
kingdom. We shall go to Rhodes. Hogvardt will 
have got me a little yacht, and then — good-bye 
to all this ! ” And a great longing for solitude 
and a natural life came over me as I looked round 
on the gilded cornices, the gilded mirrors, the 
gilded flower-vases, and the highly gilded com- 
pany of the Optimum. 

I was roused from my pleasant dreams by a 
high, vivacious voice which I knew very well. 
Looking up, I saw Miss Hipgrave, her mother, 
and young Bennett Hamlyn, standing before me. 
I dislike young Hamlyn, but he was always very 
civil to me. 

‘‘ Why, how early you two have dined ! ” cried 
Beatrice. ‘‘You’re at the savoury, aren’t you? 
We’ve only just come.” 

“ Are you going to dine ? ” I asked, rising, 
“Take this table; we’re just off.” 


A Long Thing Ending in 13 

“ Well, we may as well, mayn’t we ? ” said my 
finac^e. Sorry you’re going, though. Oh, yes, 
we’re going to dine with Mr. Bennett Hamlyn. 
That’s what you’re for, isn’t it, Mr. Hamlyn? 
Why, he’s not listening ! ” 

He was not, strange to say, listening, although 
as a rule he listened to Beatrice with infinite at- 
tention and the most deferential of smiles. But 
just now he was engaged in returning a bow 
which our neighbour at the next table had be- 
stowed on him. The lady there had risen already 
and was making for the door. The man lingered 
and looked at Hamlyn, seeming inclined to back 
up his bow with a few words of greeting. Ham- 
lyn’s air was not, however, encouraging, and the 
stranger contented himself with a nod and a 
careless “ How are you ? ” and, with that, followed 
his companion. Hamlyn turned round, conscious 
that he had neglected Beatrice’s remark and full 
of penitence for his momentary neglect. 

“ I beg your pardon ? ” said he with an apolo- 
getic smile. 

“ Oh,” answered she, ‘‘ I was only saying that 
men like you were invented to give dinners; 
you’re a sort of automatic feeding-machine. You 
ought to stand open all day. Really I often miss 
you at lunch time.” 

‘‘ My dear Beatrice ! ' said Mrs. Kennett Hip- 
grave, with that peculiar lift of her brows which 


14 Phfoso: A Romance* 

meant, How naughty the dear child is — but oh, 
how clever 

‘‘ It’s all right,” said Hamlyn meekly. I’m 
awfully happy to give you a dinner anyhow, Miss 
Beatrice.” 

Now I had nothing to say on this subject, but 
I thought I would just make this remark, — 

^‘Miss Hipgrave,” said I, ‘‘is very fond of a 
dinner.” 

Beatrice laughed. She understood my little 
correction. 

“ He doesn’t know any better, do you ? ” said 
she pleasantly to Hamlyn. “ We shall civilise 
him in time, though ; then I believe he’ll be nicer 
than you, Charley, I really do. You’re — — ” 

“ I shall be uncivilised by then,” said I. 

“ Oh, that wretched island ! ” cried Beatrice. 
“You’re really going?” 

“ Most undoubtedly. By the way, Hamlyn, 
who’s your friend?” 

Surely this was an innocent enough question, 
but little Hamlyn went red from the edge of his 
clipped whisker on the right to the edge of his 
mathematically equal whisker on the left. 

“Friend!” said he in an angry tone; “he’s 
not a friend of mine. I only met him on the 
Riviera.” 

“ That,” I admitted, “ does not, happily, in it- 
self constitute a friendship.” 


A Long Thing Ending in -poulos* 15 

^‘And he won a hundred louis of me in the 
train between Cannes and Monte Carlo/' 

‘‘Not bad going, that," observed Denny in an 
approving tone. 

“ Is he then ungrecf^' asked Mrs. Hipgrave, 
who loves a scrap of French. 

“ In both senses, I believe," answered Hamlyn 
viciously. 

“And what’s his name?" said I. 

“ Really I don’t recollect," said Hamlyn 
rather petulantly. 

“ It doesn’t matter," observed Beatrice, at- 
tacking her oysters, which had now made their 
appearance. 

“ My dear Beatrice," I remonstrated, “ you’re 
the most charming creature in the world, but not 
the only one. You mean that it doesn’t matter 
to you." 

“ Oh, don’t be tiresome. It doesn’t matter to 
you either, you know. Do go away and leave 
me to dine in peace." 

“ Half a minute ! " said Hamlyn. “ I thought 
I’d got it just now, but it’s gone again. Look 
here, though, I believe it’s one of those long 
things that end in poulos^^ 

“ Oh, it ends in poulos^ does it ? " said I in a 
meditative tone. 

“ My dear Charley," said Beatrice, “ I shall end 
in Bedlam if you’re so very tedious. What in 


i6 ttifoso: A Romance# 

the world I shall do when I’m married, I don’t 
know.” 

‘‘My dearest!” said Mrs. Hipgrave, and a 
stage direction might add, Business with brows 
as before. 

Poulosf I repeated thoughtfully. 

“ Could it be Constantinopoulos? ” asked Ham- 
lyn, with a nervous deference to my Hellenic 
learning. 

“ It might conceivably,” I hazarded, “ be Con- 
stantine Stefanopoulos.” 

“ Then,” said Hamlyn, “ I shouldn’t wonder if 
it was. Anyhow, the less you see of him. Wheat- 
ley, the better. Take my word for that.” 

“ But,” I objected — and I must admit that I 
have a habit of assuming that everybody follows 
my train of thought — “ it’s such a small place^ 
that, if he goes, I shall be almost bound to meet 
him.” 

“ What’s such a small place ? ” cried Beatrice 
with emphasised despair. 

“ Why, Neopalia, of course,” said I. 

“ Why should anybody, except you, be so in- 
sane as to go there ? ” she asked. 

“ If he’s the man I think, he comes from there,” 
I explained, as I rose for the last time ; for I had 
been getting up to go, and sitting down again, 
several times. 

“ Then he’ll think twice before he goes back,” 


A Long Thing Ending in •^poulos* 17 

pronounced Beatrice decisively ; she was irrecon- 
cilable about my poor island. 

Denny and I walked off together; as we went 
he observed, — 

‘‘ I suppose that chap’s got no end of money?” 

Stefan ? ” I began. 

** No, no. Hang it, you’re as bad as Miss Hip- 
grave says. I mean Bennett Hamlyn.’* 

** Oh, yes, absolutely no end to it, I believe.” 

Denny looked sagacious. 

He’s very free with his dinners,” he observed. 

‘‘ Don’t let’s worry about it,” I suggested, tak- 
ing his arm. I was not worried about it myseli. 
Indeed for the moment my island monopolised 
my mind, and my attachment to Beatrice was 
not of such a romantic character as to make me 
ready to be jealous on slight grounds. Mrs. 
Hipgrave said the engagement was based on 
‘‘general suitability.” Nowit is difficult to be 
very passionate over that. 

“ If you don’t mind, I don’t,” said Denny rea- 
sonably. 

“ That’s right. It’s only a little way that Bea- 
trice ” I stopped abruptly. We were now 

on the steps outside the restaurant, and I had just 
perceived a scrap of paper lying on the mosaic 
pavement. I stooped down and picked it up. 
It proved to be a fragment torn from the menu 
card. I turned it over. 


i8 Phroso: A Romance* 

Hullo, what's this ? " said I, searching for my 
eyeglass, which was (as usual) somewhere in the 
small of my back. 

Denny gave me the glass, and I read what was 
written on the back. It was written in Greek, 
and it ran thus : 

By way of Rhodes — small yacht there^ — arrive 
seventh." 

I turned the piece of paper over in my hand. 
I drew a conclusion or two : one was that my tall 
neighbour was named Stefanopoulos ; another, 
that he had made good use of his ears — better 
than I had made of mine ; for a third, I guessed 
that he would go to Neopalia; fora fourth, I 
fancied that Neopalia was the place to which the 
lady had declared she would accompany him. 
Then I fell to wondering why all these things 
should be so ; why he wished to remember the 
route of my journey, the date of my arrival, and 
the fact that I meant to hire a yacht. Finally, 
those two chance encounters, taken with the rest, 
assumed a more interesting complexion. 

‘‘ When you've done with that bit of paper," ob- 
served Denny, in a tone expressive of exaggerated 
patience, ‘‘we might as well go on, old fellow.” 

“ All right. I've done with it — for the present,” 
said I. But I took the liberty of slipping Mr. 
Constantine Stefanopoulos' memorandum into 
my pocket. 


19 


A Long Thing Ending in -potdos* 

The general result of the evening was to in- 
crease most distinctly my interest in Neopalia. 
I went to bed still thinking of my purchase, and 
I recollect that the last thing which came into 
my head before I went to sleep was, “ What did 
she mean by pointing to the ring?'' 

Well, I found an answer to that later on. 


CHAPTER n* 

A Conservative Country* 

Until the moment of our parting came, I had 
no idea that Beatrice Hipgrave felt my going at 
all. She was not in the habit of displaying 
emotion, and I was much surprised at the reluc- 
tance with which she bade me good-bye. So far, 
however, was she from reproaching me that she 
took all the blame on herself, saying that if she 
had been kinder and nicer to me I should never 
have thought about my island. In this she was 
quite wrong ; but when I told her so, and assured 
her that I had no fault to find with her behav- 
iour I was met with an almost passionate assertion 
of her unworthiness and an entreaty that I should 
not spend on her a love that she did not deserve. 
Her abasement and penitence compelled me to 
show — and indeed to feel — a good deal of tender- 
ness for her. She was pathetic and pretty in her 
unusual earnestness and unexplained distress. I 
went the length of offering to put off my expedi- 
tion until after our wedding ; and although she 
besought me to do nothing of the kind, I believe 


A G)nservative Gauntry# 21 

that we might, in the end, have arranged matters 
on this footing had we been left to ourselves. 
But Mrs. Hipgrave saw fit to intrude on our in- 
terview at this point, and she at once pooh-poohed 
the notion, declaring that I should be better out 
of the way for a few months. Beatrice did not 
resist her mother’s conclusion ; but when we were 
alone again she became very agitated, begging 
me always to think well of her, and asking if I 
were really attached to her. I did not under- 
stand this mood, which was very unlike her ordi- 
nary manner ; but I responded with a hearty and 
warm avowal of confidence in her ; and I met her 
questions as to my own feelings by pledging my 
word very solemnly that absence should, so far 
as I was concerned, make no difference, and that 
she might rely implicitly on my faithful affection. 
This assurance seemed to give her very little 
comfort, although I repeated it more than once ; 
and when I left her I was in a state of some per- 
plexity, for I could not follow the bent of her 
thoughts nor appreciate the feelings that moved 
her. I was, however, considerably touched, and 
upbraided myself for not having hitherto done 
justice to the depth and sincerity of nature 
which underlay her external frivolity. I ex- 
pressed this self-condemnation to Denny Swin- 
ton, but he met it very coldly, and would not be 
drawn into any discussion of the subject. Denny 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


was not wont to conceal his opinions, and had 
never pretended to be enthusiastic about my en- 
gagement. This attitude of his had not troubled 
me before, but I was annoyed at it now, and I 
retaliated by asseverating my affection for Bea- 
trice in terms of even exaggerated emphasis, and 
hers for me with no less vehemence. 

These troubles and perplexities vanished be- 
fore the zest and interest which our preparations 
and start excited. Denny and I were like a pair 
of schoolboys off for a holiday, and spent hours 
in forecasting what we should do and how we 
should fare on the island. These speculations 
were extremely amusing, but in the long run 
they were proved to be, one and all, wide of the 
mark. Had I known Neopalia then as well as I 
came to know it afterwards, I should have re- 
cognised the futility of attempting to prophesy 
what would or would not happen there. As it 
was, we span our cobwebs merrily all the way to 
Rhodes, where we arrived without event and 
without accident. Here we picked up Hogvardt, 
and embarked in the smart little steam yacht 
which he had procured for me. A day or two 
was spent in arranging our stores and buying 
what more we wanted, for we could not expect 
to be able to purchase any luxuries in Neopalia. 
I was rather surprised to find no letter for me 
from the old Lord, but I had no thought of 


23 


A G)nservative Country* 

waiting for a formal invitation, and pressed on 
the hour of departure as much as I could. Here, 
also, I saw the first of my new subjects, Hog- 
vardt having engaged a couple of men who had 
come to him saying that they were from Neo- 
palia and were anxious to work their passage 
back. I was delighted to have them, and fell at 
once to studying them with immense attention. 
They were fine, tall, capable-looking fellows, and 
they two, with ourselves, made a crew more than 
large enough for our little boat ; for both Denny 
and I could make ourselves useful on board, and 
Hogvardt could do something of everything on 
land or water, while Watkins acted as cook and 
steward. The Neopalians were, as they stated 
in answer to my questions, brothers ; their names 
were Spiro and Demetri, and they informed us 
that their family had served the Lords of Neo- 
palia for many generations. Hearing this, I was 
less inclined to resent the undeniable reserve and 
even surliness with which they met my advances. 
I made allowance for their hereditary attachment 
to the outgoing family, and their natural want of 
cordiality towards the intruder did not prevent 
me from plying them with many questions con- 
cerning my predecessors on the throne of the 
island. My perseverance was ill-rewarded, but I 
succeeded in learning that the only member of 
the family on the island, besides the old Lord, 


24 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


was a girl whom they called The Lady Eu< 
phrosyne/' the daughter of the Lord’s brother 
who was dead. Next I asked after my friend 
of the Optimum Restaurant, — Constantine. He 
was this lady’s cousin once or twice removed, — 
I did not make out the exact degree of kinship, 
— but Demetri hastened to inform me that he 
came very seldom to the island, and had not 
been there for two years. 

And he is not expected there now ? ” I asked. 
He was not when we left, my lord,” answered 
Demetri, and it seemed to me that he threw 
an inquiring glance at his brother, who added 
hastily, — 

“ But what should we poor men know of the 
Lord Constantine’s doings ? ” 

Do you know where he is now?” I asked. 

‘‘No, my lord,” they answered together, and 
with great emphasis. 

I cannot deny that something struck me as 
peculiar in their manner, but when I mentioned 
my impression to Denny he scoffed at me. 

“You’ve been reading old Byron again,” he 
said scornfully. “ Do you think they’re cor- 
sairs ? ” 

Well, a man is not a fool simply because he 
reads Byron, and I maintained my opinion that 
the brothers were embarrassed at my questions. 
Moreover I caught Spiro, the more truculent- 


A Conservative Country# 2^ 

looking of the pair, scowling at me more than 
once when he did not know I had my eye on 
him. 

These little mysteries, however, did nothing 
but add sauce to my delight as we sprang over 
the blue waters; and my joy was complete when, 
on the morning of the day I had appointed, the 
seventh of May, Denny cried ‘‘ Land ! ” and, 
looking over the starboard bow, I saw the cloud 
on the sea that. was Neopalia. Day came bright 
and glorious, and, as we drew nearer to our en- 
chanted isle, we distinguished its features and 
conformation. The coast was rocky, save where 
a small harbour opened to the sea, and the rocks 
ran up from the coast, rising higher and higher, 
till they culminated In a quite respectable peak 
in the centre. The telescope showed cultivated 
ground and vineyards, mingled with woods, on 
the slopes of the mountain ; and about half-way 
up, sheltered on three sides, backed by thick 
woods, and commanding a splendid sea view, 
stood an old, grey, battlemented house. 

There’s my house,” I cried, in natural exulta- 
tion, pointing with my finger. It was a moment 
in my life, a moment to mark. 

‘‘ Hurrah ! ” cried Denny, throwing up his hat 
in sympathy. 

Demetri was standing near, and met thii 
ebullition with a grim smile. 


2^ Phfoso: A Romance# 

I hope my lord will find the house comfort- 
able/’ said he. 

“ We shall soon make it comfortable/’ said Hog- 
vardt ; “ I daresay it’s half a ruin now.” 

‘‘ It’s good enough now for a Stefanopoulos,” 
said the fellow with a surly frown. The infer- 
ence we were meant to draw was plain even to the 
point of incivility. 

At five o’clock in the evening we entered the 
harbour of Neopalia, and brought up alongside a 
rather crazy wooden jetty which ran some fifty 
feet out from the shore. Our arrival appeared to 
create great excitement. Men, women, and chil- 
dren came running down the narrow steep street 
which climbed up the hill from the harbour. 
We heard shrill cries, and a hundred fingers were 
pointed at us. We landed; nobody came for- 
ward to greet us. I looked round, but saw no 
one who could be the old Lord ; but I perceived a 
stout man who wore an air of importance, and, 
walking up to him, I asked him very politely if 
he would be so good as to direct me to the inn ; 
for I had discovered from Demetri that there was 
a modest house where we could lodge that night, 
and I was too much in love with my island to 
think of sleeping on board the yacht. The 
stout man looked at Denny and me ; then he 
looked at Demetri and Spiro, who stood near 
113, smiling their usual grim smile. At last be 


A Conservative Country* 27 

answered my question by another, a rather abrupt 
one, — 

^‘What do you want, sir?” and he lifted his 
tasselled cap a few inches and replaced it on his 
head. 

I want to know the way to the inn,” I an- 
swered. 

“You have come to visit Neopalia?” he asked. 

A number of people had gathered round us 
now, and all fixed their eyes on my face. 

“ Oh,” said I carelessly, “ Fm the purchaser of 
the island, you know. I have come to take pos- 
session.” 

Nobody spoke. Perfect silence reigned for 
half a minute. 

“ I hope we shall get on well together,” I said 
with my pleasantest smile. 

Still no answer came. The people round still 
stared. But presently the stout man, altogether 
ignoring my friendly advances, said curtly, — 

“ I keep the inn. Come. I will take you to 
it.” 

He turned and led the way up the street. We 
followed, the people making a lane for us and 
still regarding us with stony stares. Denny gave 
expression to my feelings as well as his own, — 

“ It can hardly be described as an ovation,” he 
observed. 

“ Surly brutes ! ” muttered Hogvardt. 


jPhfosot A Rom^nte^ 


28 


It is not the way to receive his lordship/* 
agreed Watkins, more in sorrow than in anger. 
Watkins had very high ideas of the deference due 
to his lordship. 

The fat innkeeper walked ahead ; I quickened 
my pace and overtook him. 

“The people don’t seem very pleased to see 
me,” I remarked. 

He shook his head, but made no answer. Then 
he stopped before a substantial house. We fol- 
lowed him in, and he led us upstairs to a large 
room. It overlooked the street, but, somewhat 
to my surprise, the windows were heavily barred. 
The door also was massive and had large bolts 
inside and outside. 

“You take good care of your houses, my 
friend,” said Denny with a laugh. 

“We like to keep what we have, in Neopalia,” 
said he. 

I asked him if he would provide us with a 
meal, and, assenting gruffly, he left us alone. 
The food was some time in coming, and we stood 
at the window, peering through our prison bars. 
Our high spirits were dashed by the unfriendly 
reception ; my island should have been more 
gracious; it was so beautiful. 

“ However, it*s a better welcome than we should 
have got two hundred years ago,** I said with a 
laugh, trying to make the best of the matter. 


A G)nscfvative Country* 29 

Dinner, which the landlord himself brought in, 
cheered us again, and we lingered over it till 
dusk began to fall, discussing whether I ought to 
visit the Lord, or whether, seeing that he had 
not come to receive me, my dignity did not 
demand that I should await his visit ; and it was 
on this latter course that we finally decided. 

“ But he’ll hardly come to-night,” said Denny, 
jumping up. ‘‘ I wonder if there are any decent 
beds here ! ” 

Hogvardt and Watkins had, by my directions, 
sat down with us ; the former was now smoking 
his pipe at the window, while Watkins was busy 
overhauling our luggage. We had brought light 
bags, the rods, guns, and other smaller articles. 
The rest was in the yacht. Hearing beds men- 
tioned, Watkins shook his head in dismal presage, 
saying,— 

We had better sleep on board, my lord.” 

‘‘Not I! What, leave the island now weVo 
got here ? No, Watkins ! ” 

“Very good, my lord,” said Watkins impas. 
sively. 

A sudden call came from Hogvardt, and 1 
joined him at the window. 

The scene outside was indeed remarkable. In 
the narrow paved street, gloomy now in the fail- 
ing light, there must have been fifty or sixty 
men standing :n a circle, surrounded by an outer 


30 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


fringe of women and children ; and in the centre 
stood our landlord, his burly figure swaying to 
and fro as he poured out a low-voiced but vehe- 
ment harangue. Sometimes he pointed towards 
us, oftener along the ascending road that led to 
the interior. I could not hear a word he said, 
but presently all his auditors raised their hands 
towards heaven. I saw that some of the hands 
held guns, some clubs, some knives ; and all the 
men cried with furious energy, Nai, Nai, Yes, 
Yes!'’ Then the whole body — and the greater 
part of the grown men on the island must have 
been present — started off in compact array up the 
road, the innkeeper at their head. By his side 
walked another man whom I had not noticed 
before ; he wore an ordinary suit of tweed, but 
carried himself with an assumption of much 
dignity; his face I could not see. 

“Well, what's the meaning of that?" I ex- 
claimed, looking down on the street, empty again 
save for groups of white-clothed women, who 
talked eagerly to one another, gesticulating and 
pointing now towards our inn, now towards where 
the men had gone. 

“ Perhaps it's their Parliament," suggested 
Denny ; “ or perhaps they've repented of their 
rudeness and are going to erect a triumphal 
arch.” 

These conjectures, being obviously ironical, 


A Conservative Country* 31 

did not assist the matter, although they amused 
their author. 

‘‘Anyhow,’' said I, “I should like to investi- 
gate the thing. Suppose we go for a stroll? ” 

The proposal was accepted at once. We put 
on our hats, took sticks, and prepared to go. 
Then I glanced at the luggage. 

“ Since I was so foolish as to waste my money 

on revolvers ?” said I, with an inquiring 

glance at Hogvardt. 

“ The evening air will not hurt them,” said he ; 
and we each stowed a revolver in our pockets. 
We felt, I think, rather ashamed of our timidity, 
but the Neopalians certainly looked rough cus- 
tomers. Leading the way to the door I turned 
the handle ; the door did not open. I pulled 
hard at it. Then I looked at my companions. 

“ Queer,” said Denny, and he began to whistle. 

Hogvardt got the little lantern, which he 
always had handy, and carefully inspected the 
door. 

“Locked,” he announced, “and bolted top 
and bottom. A solid door too ! ” and he struck 
it with his fist. Then he crossed to the window 
and looked at the bars ; and finally he said to 
me : “ I don't think we can have our walk, my 
lord.” 

Well, I burst out laughing. The thing was 
too absurd. Under cover of our animated talk 


32 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


the landlord must have bolted us in. The bars 
made the window no use. A skilled burglar 
might have beaten those bolts, and a battering- 
ram would, no doubt, have smashed the door; 
we had neither burglar nor ram. 

‘‘ We’re caught, my boy,” said Denny, ‘‘ nicely 
caught ! But what’s the game ? ” 

I had asked myself that question already, but 
had found no answer. To tell the truth, I was 
wondering whether Neopalia was going to turn 
out as conservative a country as the Turkish 
Ambassador had hinted. It was Watkins who 
suggested an answer. 

I imagine, my lord,” said he, ‘‘ that the 
natives ” (Watkins always called the Neopalians 
‘‘ natives ”) ‘‘have gone to speak to the gentle- 
man who sold the island to your lordship.” 

“ Gad,” said Denny, “ I hope it’ll be a pleasant 
interview ! ” 

Hogvardt’s broad, good-humoured face had 
assumed an anxious look. He knew something 
about the people of these islands ; so did I. 

“Trouble, is it?” I asked him. 

“ I’m afraid so,” he answered, and then we 
turned to the window again, except Denny, who 
wasted some energy and made a useless din by 
battering at the door till we beseeched him to 
let it alone. 

There in the room we sat for nearly two hours. 


A G)nscfvativc G)«ntfy# 33 

Darkness fell ; the women had ceased their gos- 
siping, but still stood about the street and in the 
doorways of their houses. It was nine o’clock 
before matters showed any progress. Then 
came shouts from the road above us, the flash of 
torches, the tread of men’s feet in a quick tri- 
umphant march. Next the stalwart figures of 
the picturesque fellows, with their white kilts 
gleaming through the darkness, came again into 
sight, seeming wilder and more imposing in the 
alternating glare and gloom of the torches and 
the deepening night. The man in tweeds was no 
longer visible. Our innkeeper was alone in front. 
And all, as they marched, sang loudly a rude, 
barbarous sort of chant, repeating it again and 
again ; while the women and children, crowding 
out to meet the men, caught up the refrain in 
shrill voices, till the whole air seemed full of it ; 
so martial and inspiring was the rude tune that 
our feet began to beat in time with it, and I felt 
the blood quicken in my veins. I have tried to 
put the words of it into English, in a shape as 
rough, I fear, as the rough original. Here it is : 

•* Ours is the land ! 

Death to the hand 
That filches the land ! 

Dead is that hand, 

Ours is the land I 


4 


34 


Phrosot A Romance* 


“ Forever we hold it, 

Dead’s he that sold it i 
Ours is the land. 

Dead is the hand I ** 

Again and again they hurled forth the defiani 
words, until at last they stopped opposite the inn 
with one final, long-drawn shout of savage tri- 
umph. 

‘‘ Well, this is a go,'* said Denny, drawing a 
long breath. What are the beggars up to ? 

What have they been up to ? I asked ; for 
I could not doubt that the song we had heard 
had been chanted over a dead Stefanopoulos two 
hundred years before. At this age of the world 
the idea seemed absurd, preposterous, horrible. 
But there was no law nearer than Rhodes, and 
there only Turk’s law. The sole law here was 
the law of the Stefanopouloi, and if that law lost 
its force by the crime of the hand which should 
wield it, why, strange things might happen ever 
to-day in Neopalia. And we were caught in the 
inn like rats in a trap. 

‘‘ I don’t see,” remarked old Hogvardt, laying 
a hand on my shoulder, “ any harm in loading 
our revolvers, my lord.” 

I did not see any harm in it either, and we all 
followed Hogvardt’s advice, and also filled our 
pockets with cartridges. I was determined — I 
think w6 were all determined — not to be bullied 


A G)nsefvative Gauntry# 3S 

by these islanders and their skull-and-crossbones 
ditty. 

A quarter of an hour passed ; then there came 
a knock at the door, while the bolts shot back. 

“ I shall go out,’* said I, springing to my feet. 

The door opened, and the face of a lad ap* 
peared. 

‘‘ Vlacho the innkeeper bids you descend,*' 
said he ; and then, catching sight, perhaps, of 
our revolvers, he turned and ran downstairs 
again at his best speed. Following him we came 
to the door of the inn. It was ringed round with 
men, and directly opposite to us stood Vlacho. 
When he saw me he commanded silence with a 
gesture of his hand, and addressed ^me in the 
following surprising style, — 

‘‘The Lady Euphrosyne, of her grace, bids 
you depart in peace. Go then, to your boat and 
depart, thanking God for His mercy.’* 

“ Wait a bit, my man,** said I ; “where is the 
Lord of the Island ? ** 

“ Did you not know that he died a week ago ? *’ 
asked Vlacho, with apparent surprise. 

“ Died ! ** we exclaimed, one and all. 

“Yes, sir. The Lady Euphrosyne, Lady of 
Neopalia, bids you go.** 

“ What did he die of?** 

“ Of a fever,** said Vlacho gravely ; and several 
of the men round him nodded their heads, and 


$6 Phfoso : A Romance# 

murmured in no less grave assent, ^^Yes, of a 
fever/' 

“ I am very sorry for it," said I. Bu^ as he 
sold the island to me before he died, I don’t see 
what the Lady, with all respect to her, has got 
to do with it. Nor do I know what this rabble 
is doing about the door. Bid them disperse." 

This attempt at hauteur was most decidedly 
thrown away. Vlacho seemed not to hear what 
I said. He pointed with his finger towards the 
harbour, 

“ There lies your boat. Demetri and Spiro 
cannot go with you, but you will be able to man- 
age her yourselves. Listen now ! Till six in the 
morning you are free to go. If you are found in 
Neopalia one minute after, you will never go. 
Think and be wise." And he and all the rest, as 
though one spring moved the whole body, 
wheeled round and marched off up the hill again, 
breaking out into the old chant when they had 
gone about a hundred yards. We were left alone 
in the doorway of the inn, looking, I must admit, 
rather blank. 

Upstairs again we went, and I sat down by the 
window and gazed out on the night. It was very 
dark, and seemed darker now that the gleaming 
torches were gone. Not a soul was to be seen. 
The islanders, having put matters on a satisfac- 
tory footing, were gone to bed. I sat thinking. 


A Conservative Country* 37 

Presently Denny came to me, and put his hand 
on my shoulder. 

‘‘ Going to cave in, Charley ? '' he asked. 

My dear Denny,” said I, I wish you were at 
home with your mother.” 

He smiled and repeated, Going to cave in, 
old chap ? ” 

‘‘No, by Jove, Tm not!” cried I, leaping up. 
“They’ve had my money, and I’m going to have 
my island.” 

“ Take the yacht, my lord,” counselled Hog- 
vardt, “ and come back with enough force from 
Rhodes.” 

Well, here was sense ; my impulse was non- 
sense. We four could not conquer the island. I 
swallowed my pride. 

“ So be it,” said I. “ But look here, it’s only 
just twelve. We might have a look round before 
we go. I want to see the place, you know.” 
For I was very sorely vexed at being turned out 
of my island. 

Hogvardt grumbled a little at my proposal, 
but here I overruled him. We took our revol- 
vers again, left the inn, and struck straight up 
the road. We met nobody. For nearly a mile 
we mounted, the way becoming steeper with 
every step. Then there was a sharp turn off the 
main road. 

“That will lead to the house,” said Hogvardt, 


38 


Fhfoso: A Romance# 


who had studied the map of Neopalia very care- 
fully. 

‘‘ Then we'll have a look at the house. Show 
us a light, Hogvardt. It's precious dark." 

Hogvardt opened his lantern and cast its light 
on the way. But suddenly he extinguished it 
again, and drew us close into the rocks that edged 
the road. We saw coming towards us, in the 
darkness, two figures. They rode small horses. 
Their faces could not be seen ; but as they passed 
our silent, motionless forms, one said in a clear, 
sweet, girlish voice, — ^ 

Surely they will go ?" 

‘‘ Aye, they'll go or pay the penalty," said the 
other voice. At the sound of it I started. For 
it was the voice of my neighbour in the restau- 
rant, Constantine Stefanopoulos. 

I shall be near at hand, sleeping in the town," 
said the girl’s voice, ‘‘ and the people will listen 
to me." 

The people will kill them if they don't go," 
we heard Constantine answer, in tones that wit- 
nessed no great horror at the idea. Then the 
couple disappeared in the darkness. 

‘‘On to the house!" I cried in sudden ex- 
citement. For I was angry now, angry at the 
utter humbling scorn with which they treated 
me. 

Another ten minutes' groping brought us in 


A Conservative Country* 39 

front of the old grey house which we had seen 
from the sea. We walked boldly up to it. The 
door stood open. We went in and found our- 
selves in a large hall. The wooden floor was 
carpeted here and there with mats and skins. 
A long table ran down the middle ; the walls 
were decorated with mediaeval armour and wea- 
pons. The windows were but narrow slits, the 
walls massive and deep. The door was a pon- 
derous iron-bound affair ; it shamed even the 
stout doors of our inn. I called loudly “ Is any one 
here ? '' Nobody answered. The servants must 
have been drawn off to the town by the excite- 
ment of the procession and the singing, — or per- 
haps there were no servants. I could not tell. 
I sat down in a large arm-chair by the table. I 
enjoyed the sense of proprietorship ; I was in my 
own house. Denny sat on the table by me, 
dangling his legs. For a long while none of us 
spoke. Then I exclaimed suddenly, — 

“ By heaven, why shouldn’t we see it through ? ” 
I rose, put my hands against the massive door^ 
and closed and bolted it, saying, “Let them 
open that at six o’clock in the morning.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Denny, leaping down from 
his table, on fire with excitement in a moment. 

I faced Hogvardt. He shook his head, but he 
smiled. Watkins stood by with his usual imper- 
turbability. He wanted to know what his lord- 


40 


Phroso: A Romance* 


ship decided — that was all ; and when I said 
nothing more, he asked, — 

Then your lordship will sleep here to-night ? ” 
ril stay here to-night, anyhow, Watkins,’' 
said L ‘‘ Tm not going to be driven out of my 
own island by anybody.” 

As I spoke, I brought my fist down on the 
table with a crash. And then to our amazement 
we heard, from somewhere in the dark recesses 
of the hall where the faint light of Hogvardt’s 
lantern did not reach, a low but distinct groan, 
as of some one in pain. Watkins shuddered; 
Hogvardt looked rather uncomfortable; Denny 
and I listened eagerly. Again the groan came. I 
seized the lantern from Hogvardt’s hand and 
rushed in the direction of the sound. There, in 
the corner of the hall, on a couch covered with 9 
rug, lay an old man in an uneasy attitude, groan- 
ing now and then, and turning restlessly. By his 
side sat an old serving-woman in weary, heavy 
slumber. In a moment I guessed the truth— 
part of the truth. 

“ He’s not dead of that fever yet, ’ said 1 . 


CHAPTER m* 

The Fever of Neopalia* 

I LOOKED for a moment on the old man’s pale, 
clean-cut, aristocratic face ; then I shook his at- 
tendant by the arm vigorously. She awoke with 
a start. 

What does this mean ? ” I demanded. ‘‘ Who 
is he?” 

‘‘ Heaven help us ! Who are you ? ” she cried, 
leaping up in alarm. Indeed we four, with our 
eager, fierce faces, must have looked disquieting 
enough. 

I am Lord Wheatley ; these are my friends,** 
I answered, in brisk, sharp tones. 

“ What, it is you, then ? ” A wondering gaze 
ended her question. 

‘‘Yes, yes, it is I. I have bought the island. 
We came out for a walk and ” 

“ But he will kill you if he finds you here.” 

“He? Who?” 

“ Ah, pardon, my lord ! They will kill you, 
they — the people — the men of the island.” 

I gazed at her sternly. She shrank back in 


42 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


confusion. And I spoke at a venture, yet in a 
well-grounded hazard, — 

“You mean that Constantine Stefanopoulos 
will kill me?’’ 

“ Ah, hush,” she cried. “ He may be here, he 
may be anywhere.” 

“ He may thank his stars he’s not here,” said 
I grimly, for my blood was up. “ Attend, woman. 
Who is this ? ” 

“ It is the Lord of the island, my lord, she 
answered. “Alas, he is wounded, I fear, to 
death. And yet I fell asleep. But I was so 
weary.’* 

“ Wounded — by whom ? ” 

Her face suddenly became vacant and expres- 
sionless. 

“ I do not know, my lord. It happened in the 
crowd. It was a mistake. My dear Lord had 
yielded what they asked. Yet some one — no, by 
heaven, my lord, I do not know who — stabbed 
him. And he cannot live.” 

“Tell me the whole thing,” I commanded. 

“ They came up here, my lord, all of them, 
Vlacho and all, and with them my Lord Con- 
stantine. The Lady Euphrosyne was away ; she 
is often away, down on the rocks by the sea, 
watching the waves. They came and said that a 
man had landed who claimed our island as his — - 
a man of your name, my lord. And when my 


43 


The Fever of Neopalia* 

dear Lord said he had sold the island to save the 
honour of his house and race they were furious, 
and Vlacho raised the death-chant that One-eyed 
Alexander the Bard wrote on the death of Stefan 
Stefanopoulos long ago. Then they came near 
with knives, demanding that my dear Lord 
should send away the stranger ; for the men of 
Neopalia were not to be bought and sold like 
bullocks or like pigs. At first my Lord would 
not yield, and they swore they would kill the 
stranger and my Lord also. Then they pressed 
closer; Vlacho was hard on him with drawn 
knife, and the Lord Constantine stood by him, 
praying him to yield ; and Constantine drew his 
own knife, saying to Vlacho that he must fight 
him also before he killed the old Lord. But at 
that Vlacho smiled. And then — and then— ah, 
my dear Lord ! 

For a moment her voice broke, and sobs sup- 
planted words. But she drew herself up, and, 
after a glance at the old man, whom her vehe- 
ment speech had not availed to waken, she went 
on. 

And then those behind cried out that there was 
enough talk. Would he yield or would he die? 
And they rushed forward, pressing the nearest 
against him. And he, an old man, frail and fee- 
ble (yet once he was as brave a man as any), cried 
in his weak tones, ‘ Enough, friends, I yield, 


44 


fhfoso; A Romahde# 


I ’ and they fell back. But my Lord stood 

for an instant, then he set his hand to his side, 
and swayed and tottered and fell ; the blood was 
running from his side. The Lord Constantine 
fell on his knees beside him, crying, * Who 
stabbed him ? * Vlacho smiled grimly, and the 
others looked at one another. But I, who had 
run out from the doorway whence I had seen it 
all, knelt by my Lord and staunched the blood. 
Then Vlacho said, fixing his eyes straight and 
keen on the Lord Constantine, ‘ It was not I, my 
lord.* ‘Nor I, by heaven,* cried the Lord Con- 
stantine, and he rose to his feet, demanding, 
‘ Who struck the blow ? * But none answered ; 
and he went on, ‘ Nay, if it were in error, if it 
were because he would not yield, speak. There 
shall be pardon.’ But Vlacho, hearing this, 
turned himself round and faced them all, saying, 
*Did he not sell us like oxen and like pigs?* and 
he broke into the death-chant, and they all raised 
the chant, none caring any more who had struck 

the blow. And the Lord Constantine ** The 

impetuous flow of the old woman*s story was 
frozen to sudden silence. 

“ Well, and the Lord Constantine?** said I, in 
low stern tones that quivered with excitement ; 
and I felt Denny’s hand, which was on my arm, 
jump up and down. “ And Constantine, wo- 
man?** 


45 


The Fever of NeopaIia» 

Nay, he did nothing,’' said she. He talked 
with Vlacho awhile, and then they went away, 
and he bade me tend my Lord, and went himself 
to seek the Lady Euphrosyne. Presently he 
came back with her : her eyes were red, and she 
wept afresh when she saw my poor Lord ; for 
she loved him. She sat by him till Constantine 
came and told her that you would not go, and 
that you and your friends would be killed if you 
did not go. Then, weeping to leave my Lord, 
she went, praying heaven she might find him 
alive when she returned. ‘ I must go,’ she said 
to me, ‘ for though it is a shameful thing that the 
island should have been sold, yet these men 
must be persuaded to go away and not meet 
death. Kiss him for me if he awakes.’ Thus 
she went and left me with my Lord, and I fear 
he will die.” She ended in a burst of sobbing. 

For a moment there was silence. Then I said 
again,— 

‘‘ Who struck the blow, woman ? Who struck 
the blow ? ” 

She shrank from me as though I had struck 
her. 

‘‘ I do not know ; I do not know,” she moaned. 

But the question she dared not answer was to 
find an answer. 

The stricken man opened his eyes, his lips 
moved, and he groaned : ^‘Constantine! You, 


46 


Phroso: A Romance* 


Constantine ! The old woman’s eyes met mine 
for a moment and fell to the ground again. 

“ Why, why, Constantine ? ” moaned the 
wounded man. I had yielded, I had yielded, 

Constantine. I would have sent them ” 

His words ceased, his eyes closed, his lips met 
again, but met only to part. A moment later his 
jaw dropped. The old Lord of Neopalia was dead. 

Then I, carried away by anger and by hatred 
of the man who, for a reason I did not yet un- 
derstand, had struck so foul a blow against his 
kinsman and an old man, did a thing so rash that 
it seems to me now, when I consider it in the 
cold light of memory, a mad deed. Yet then I 
could do nothing else ; and Denny’s face, aye, 
and the eyes of the others too, told me that they 
were with me. 

Compose this old man’s body,” I said, and 
we will watch it. But do you go and tell this 
Constantine Stefanopoulos that I know his crime ; 
that I know who struck that blow ; that what I 
know all men shall know; and that I will not 
rest day or night until he has paid the penalty 
of this murder. Tell him I swore this on the 
honour of an English gentleman.” 

“ And say I swore it too ! ” cried Denny ; and 
Hogvardt and Watkins, not making bold to 
speak, ranged up close to me. I knew that they 
also meant what I meant. 


The Fever of Neopalia* 47 

The old woman looked at me with searching 
eyes. 

You are a bold man, my lord,'' said she. 

“ I see nothing to be afraid of up to now," 
said 1. “Such courage as is needed to tell a 
scoundrel what I think of him I believe I can 
claim." 

“But he will never let you go now. You 
would go to Rhodes, and tell his — tell what you 
say of him." 

“Yes, and further than Rhodes, if need be. 
He shall die for it as sure as I live." 

A thousand men might have tried in vain to 
persuade me ; the treachery of Constantine had 
fired my heart and driven out all opposing mo- 
tives. 

“ Do as I bid you," said I sternly, “ and waste 
no time on it. We will watch here by the old 
man till you return." 

“ My lord," she replied, “ you run on your own 
death. And you are young; and the youth by 
you is yet younger." 

“We are not dead yet," said Denny; I had 
never seen him look as he did then ; for the 
gaiety was out of his face, and his lips had grown 
set and hard. 

She raised her hands towards heaven, whether 
in prayer or lamentation I do not know. We 
turned away and left her to her sad work ; going 


48 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


back to our places, we waited there till dawn 
began to break and from the narrow windows we 
saw the grey crests of the waves dancing and 
frolicking in the early dawn. As I watched 
them, the old woman was by my elbow. 

‘‘ It is done, my lord,'* said she. ‘‘ Are you 
still of the same mind ? " 

Still of the same," said I. 

‘‘ It is death, death for you all," she said, and 
without more she went to the great door. 
Hogvardt opened it for her, and she walked 
away down the road, between the high rocks 
that bounded the path on either side. Then we 
went and carried the old man to a room that 
opened off the hall, and, returning, stood in the 
doorway, cooling our brows in the fresh early air. 
While we stood there, Hogvardt said suddenly, — 
It is five o’clock." 

‘‘ Then we have only an hour to live," said I, 
smiling, “ if we don’t make for the yacht." 

‘‘You’re not going back to the yacht, my 
lord?" 

“ I’m puzzled," I admitted. “ If we go this 
ruffian will escape. And if we don’t go ’’ 

“ Why, we," Hogvardt ended for me, may 
not escape." 

I saw that Hogvardt’s sense of responsibility 
was heavy; he always regarded himself as the 
shepherd, his employers as the sheep. I believe 


The Fever of Neopaha* 49 

this attitude of his confirmed my obstinacy, for 
I said, without further hesitation, — 

“Oh, we’ll chance that. When they know 
what a villain the fellow is, they’ll turn against 
him. Besides, we said we’d wait here.” 

Denny seized on my last words with alacrity. 
When you are determined to do a rash thing, 
there is great comfort in feeling that you are 
already committed to it by some previous act or 
promise. 

“ So we did,” he cried. “ Then that settles it, 
Hogvardt.” 

“ His lordship certainly expressed that intern 
tion,” observed Watkins, appearing at this mo- 
ment with a big loaf of bread and a great pitcher 
of milk. I eyed these viands. 

“ I bought the house and its contents,” said I ; 
“ come along.” 

Watkins’s further researches produced a large 
lump of native cheese ; when he had set this 
down he remarked, — 

“ In a pen behind the house, close to the 
kitchen windows, there are two goats ; and your 
lordship sees there, on the right of the front door, 
two cows tethered.” 

I began to laugh, Watkins was so wise and 
solemn. 

“We can stand a siege, you mean?” I asked. 
“ Well, I hope it won’t come to that/' 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


io 


Hogvardt rose and began to move round the 
hall, examining the weapons that decorated the 
walls. From time to time he grunted disapprov- 
ingly ; the guns were useless, rusted, out of date ; 
and there was no ammunition for them. But 
when he had almost completed his circuit, he 
gave an exclamation of satisfaction, and came to 
me holding an excellent modern rifle and a large 
cartridge-case. 

See ! he grunted, in huge satisfaction. 

‘ C. S.* on the stock. I expect you can guess 
whose it is, my lord/' 

This is very thoughtful of Constantine," ob- 
served Denny, who was employing himself in 
cutting imaginary lemons in two with a fine 
damascened scimitar that he had taken from the 
wall. 

** As for the cows," said I, perhaps they will 
carry them off." 

I think not," said Hogvardt, taking an aim 
with the rifle through the window. 

I looked at my watch. It was five minutes 
past six. 

Well, we can't go now," said I. It’s settled. 
What a comfort ! " I wonder whether I had 
ever in my heart meant to go ! 

The next hour passed very quietly. We sat 
smoking pipes or cigars and talking in subdued 
tones. The recollection of the dead man in the 


The Fever of Neopalia# 51 

adjoining room sobered the excitement to which 
our position might otherwise have given occa- 
sion. Indeed I suppose that I, at least, who 
through my whim had led the rest into this 
quandary, should have been utterly overwhelmed 
by the burden on me. But I was not. Perhaps 
Hogvardt’s assumption of responsibility re- 
lieved me ; perhaps I was too full of anger 
against Constantine to think of the risks we our- 
selves ran ; and I was more than half-persuaded 
that the revelation of what he had done would 
rob him of his power to hurt us. Moreover, if 
I might judge from the words I heard on the 
road, we had on our side an ally of uncertain, 
but probably considerable, power in the sweet- 
voiced girl whom the old woman called the Lady 
Euphrosyne : she would not support her uncle’s 
murderer, even though he were her cousin. 

Presently Watkins carried me off to view his 
pen of goats, and, having passed through the 
lofty flagged kitchen, I found myself in a sort of 
compound, formed by the rocks. The ground 
had been levelled for a few yards, and the rocks 
rose straight to the height of ten or twelve feet ; 
from the top of this artificial bank they ran 
again in wooded slopes towards the peak of the 
mountain. I followed their course with my eye, 
and three hundred or more feet above us, just 
beneath the summit, I perceived a little wooden 


Phrosos A Romancct. 


chdlet or bungalow. Blue smoke issued from 
the chimneys ; and, even while we looked, a 
figure came out of the door and stood still in 
front of it, apparently gazing down towards the 
house. 

It’s a woman,” I pronounced. 

‘‘Yes, my lord. A peasant’s wife, I suppose.” 

“I dare say,” said I. But I soon doubted 
Watkins’s opinion ; in the first place, because 
the woman’s dress did not look like that of a 
peasant woman ; and secondly, because she went 
into the house, appeared again, and levelled at 
us what was, if I mistook not, a large pair of 
binocular glasses. Now such things were not 
likely to be in the possession of the peasants of 
Neopalia. Then she suddenly retreated, and 
through the silence of those still slopes we heard 
the door of the cottage closed with violence. 

“ She doesn’t seem to like the looks of us,” 
said I. 

“ Possibly,” suggested Watkins with deference, 
“ she did not expect to see your lordship here.” 

“I should think that’s very likely, Watkins,” 
said I. 

I was recalled from the survey of my new do- 
mains — my satisfaction in the thought that they 
were mine survived all the disturbing features of 
the situation — by a call from Denny. In re- 
sponse to it I hurried back to the hall and found 


The Fever of Neopalia* 53 

him at the window, with Constantine's rifle rested 
on the sill. 

I could pick him off pat," said Denny laugh- 
ingly, and he pointed to a figure which was ap- 
proaching the house. It was a man riding a stout 
pony ; when he came within about two hundred 
yards of the house, he stopped, took a leisurely 
look, and then waved a white handkerchief. 

“ The laws of war must be observed," said I, 
smiling. ‘‘ This is a flag of truce." I opened 
the door, stepped out, and waved my handker- 
chief in return. The man, reassured, began to 
mop his brow with the flag of truce, and put his 
pony to a trot. I now perceived him to be the 
innkeeper, Vlacho, and a moment later he reined 
up beside me, giving an angry jerk at his pony’s 
bridle. 

“ I have searched the island for you," he cried. 
‘‘I am weary and hot ! How came you here?** 

I explained to him briefly how I had chanced 
to take possession of my house, and added sig- 
nificantly, — 

But has no message come to you from me?" 

He smiled with equal meaning, as he an- 
swered, — 

‘‘ No ; an old woman came to speak to a gen- 
tleman who is in the village *' ' 

^‘‘Yes, to Constantine Stefanopoulos," said I 
with a nod. 


54 


Phroso: A Romance^ 


‘‘Well then, if you will, to the Lord Constan- 
tine,'’ he admitted with a careless shrug, “but 
her message was for his ear only ; he took her 
aside and they talked alone," 

“You know what she said, though?" 

“ That is between my Lord Constantine and 
me." 

“ And the young lady knows it, I hope — the 
Lady Euphrosyne?" 

Vlacho smiled broadly. 

“We could not distress her with such a silly 
tale," he answered ; and he leaned down toward 
me. “Nobody has heard the message but the 
Lord Constantine and one man he told it to. 
And nobody will. If that old woman spoke, she 
well, she knows and will not speak." 

“ And you back up this murderer ? " I cried. 

“ Murderer ? ” he repeated questioningly, 
“ Indeed, sir, it was an accident done in hot 
blood. It was the old man's fault, because he 
tried to sell the island." 

“ He did sell the island," I corrected, “ and a 
good many other people will hear of what hap- 
pened to him." 

He looked at me again, smiling. 

“ If you shouted it in the hearing of every man 
in Neopalia, what would they do ? " he asked 
scornfully. 

“Well, I should hope," I returned, ''that 


1 he Fever of Neopalia* SS 

they'd hang Constantine to the tallest tree you’ve 
got here.” 

“ They would do this,” he said with a nod ; 
and he began to sing softly the chant I had heard 
the night before. 

I was disgusted at his savagery, but I said 
coolly, — 

“ And the Lady ? ” 

‘‘The Lady believes what she is told, and will 
do as her cousin bids her. Is she not his affianced 
wife? ” 

“ The deuce she is ! ” I cried in amazement, fix- 
ing a keen scrutiny on Vlacho’s face. The face 
told me nothing. 

“ Certainly,” he said gently. “ And they will 
rule the island together.” 

“ Will they, though ? ” said I. I was becoming 
rather annoyed. “ There are one or two obstacles 
in the way of that. First, it’s my island.” 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “ That,” he 
seemed to say, “ is not worth answering.” But I 
had a second shot in the locker for him, and I 
let him have it for what it was worth. I knew it 
might be worth nothing, but I tried it. 

“ And secondly,” I went on, “ how many wives 
does Constantine propose to have?” 

A hit ! A hit ! A palpable hit ! I could 
have sung in glee. The fellow was dumbfounded. 
He turned red, bit his lip, scowled fiercely. 


56 


Phroso: A Romance# 


What do you mean?” he blurted out, v/ith 
an attempt at blustering defiance. 

Never mind what I mean. Something, per- 
haps, that the Lady Euphrosyne might care to 
know. And now, my man, what do you want of 
me ? ” 

He recovered his composure, and stated his 
errand with his old cool assurance; but the cloud 
of vexation still hung heavy on his brow. 

‘‘ On behalf of the Lady of the island ” he 

began. 

‘‘ Or shall we say her cousin ? ” I interrupted. 

** Which you will,” he answered, as though it 
were not worth while to wear the mask any 
longer. On behalf, then, of my Lord Constan- 
tine, I am to offer you safe passage to your boat, 

and a return of the money you have paid ” 

How’s he going to pay that ? ” 

He will pay it in a year, and give you security 
meanwhile.” 

And the condition is that I give up the is- 
land ? ” I asked. I began to think that perhaps 
I owed it to my companions to acquiesce in this 
proposal, however distasteful it might be to me. 

‘‘Yes,” said Vlacho, “and there is one other 
small condition, which will not trouble you.” 

“What’s that? You’re rich in conditions.” 

“You’re lucky to be offered any. It is that 
you mind your own business.” 


The Fever of Neopalia* 

** I came here for the purpose/’ I observed. 

'‘And that you undertake, for yourself and 
your companions, on your word of honour, to 
speak to nobody of what has passed on the island 
or of the affairs of the Lord Constantine/’ 

" And if I won’t give this promise? ” 

" The yacht is in our hands. Demetri and 
Spiro are our men ; there will be no ship here for 

two months ” The fellow paused, smiling at 

me. I took the liberty of ending his period for 
him. 

'' And there is,” I said, returning his smile, “ as 
we know by now, a particularly sudden and fatal 
form of fever in the island.” 

" Certainly you may chance to find that out,” 
said he. 

"But is there no antidote?” I asked, and I 
showed him the butt of my revolver in the pocket 
of my coat. 

" It may keep it off for a day or two — not 
longer. You have the bottle there, but most of 
the drug is with your baggage at the inn.” 

His parable was true enough ; we had only two 
or three dozen cartridges apiece. 

" But there’s plenty of food for Constantine’s 
rifle,” said I, pointing to the muzzle of it, which 
protruded from the window. 

He suddenly became impatient. 

"Your answer, sir ? ” he demanded peremptorily* 


Phroso: A Romance# 


ss 

‘‘ Here it is/' said I. '' I’ll keep the island 
and ril see Constantine hanged.” 

“So be it, so be it,” he cried. “You are 
warned, so be it!” Without another word he 
turned his pony and trotted rapidly off down the 
road. And I went back to the house, feeling, I 
must confess, not in the best of spirits. But 
when my friends heard all that had passed, they 
applauded me, and we made up our minds to 
“ see it through,” as Denny said. 

That day passed quietly. At noon we carried 
the old Lord out of his house, having wrapped 
him in a sheet ; we dug for him as good a grave 
as we could in a little patch of ground that lay 
outside the windows of his own chapel, a small 
erection at the west end of the house. There he 
must lie for the present. This sad work done, 
we came back and — so swift are life’s changes — - 
killed a goat for dinner, and watched Watkins 
dress it. Thus the afternoon wore away, and 
when evening came we ate our goat-flesh and 
Hogvardt milked our cows ; then we sat down 
to consider the position of the garrison. 

But the evening was hot, and we adjourned 
out of doors, grouping ourselves on the broad 
marble pavement in front of the door. Hogvardt 
had just begun to expound a very elaborate 
scheme of escape, depending, so far as I could 
make out, on our reaching the other side of the 


The Fever of Neopalia# 59 

island and finding there a boat which we had no 
reason to suppose would be there, when Denny 
raised his hand, saying Hark ! 

From the direction of the village and the har- 
bour came the sound of a horn, blowing long and 
shrill, and echoed back in strange protracted 
shrieks and groans from the hillside behind us. 
And following on the blast we heard, low in the 
distance and indistinct, yet rising and falling and 
rising again in savage defiance and exultation, 
the death-chant that One-eyed Alexander the 
Bard had made on the death of Stefan Stefano- 
poulos two hundred years ago. For a few 
minutes we sat listening ; I do not think that any 
of us felt very comfortable. Then I rose to my 
feet, saying, — 

Hogvardt, old fellow, I fancy that scheme of 
yours must wait a little. Unless Tm very much 
mistaken, we’re going to have a lively evening.” 

Well, then we shook hands all round, and went 
in and bolted the door, and sat down to wait. 
We heard the death-chant through the walls 
now ; it was coming nearer. 


CHAPTER IV* 

A Raid and a Raiden 

It was between eight and nine o’clock when 
the first of the enemy appeared on the road in 
the persons of two smart fellows in gleaming kilts 
and braided jackets. It was no more than just 
dusk, and I saw that they were strangers to me. 
One was tall and broad, the other shorter and of 
very slight build. They came on towards us 
confidently enough. I was looking over Denny’s 
shoulder ; he held Constantine’s rifle, and I knew 
that he was impatient to try it. But, inasmuch 
as might was certainly not on our side, I was 
determined that right should abide with us, and 
was resolute not to begin hostilities. Constan- 
tine had at least one powerful motive for desir- 
ing our destruction ; I would not furnish him 
with any plausible excuse for indulging his wish : 
so we stood, Denny and I at one window, Hog- 
vardt and Watkins at the other, and quietly 
watched the approaching figures. No more 
appeared ; the main body did not show itself, 
and the sound of the fierce chant had suddenly 


A Raid and a Raider* 


6i 


died away. But the next moment a third man 
came in sight, running rapidly after the first two. 
He caught the shorter by the arm, and seemed 
to argue or expostulate with him. For a while 
the three stood thus talking ; then I saw the last 
comer make a gesture of protest as though he 
yielded his point unwillingly, and they all came 
on together. 

Push the barrel of that rifle a little farther 
out,'’ said I to Denny. It may be useful to 
them to know it’s there.” 

Denny obeyed. The result was a sudden 
pause in our friends’ advance ; but they were near 
enough now for me to distinguish the last comer, 
and I discerned in him, although he had dis- 
carded his tweed suit and adopted the national 
dress, Constantine Stefanopoulos himself. 

Here’s an exercise of self-control ! ” I 
groaned, laying a detaining hand on Denny’s 
shoulder. 

As I spoke, Constantine put a whistle to his 
lips and blew loudly. The blast was followed by 
the appearance of five more fellows ; in three of 
them I recognized old acquaintances, — ^Vlacho, 
Demetri, and Spiro. These three all carried 
guns. The whole eight came forward again till 
they were within a hundred yards of us. There 
they halted, and, with a sudden swift movement, 
three barrels were levelled straight at the win- 


62 


Phroso; A Romance* 


dow where Denny and I were stationed. Well, 
we ducked ; there is no use in denying it ; for 
we thought that the bombardment had really 
begun. Yet no shot followed, and after an in- 
stant, holding Denny down, I peered out cau- 
tiously myself. The three stood motionless, 
their aim full on us. The other five were ad- 
vancing warily, well under the shelter of the 
rock, two on the left side of the road and three 
on the right. The slim boyish fellow was with 
Constantine on the left ; a moment later the other 
three dashed across the road and joined them. 
In a moment what military men call ‘‘the objec- 
tive,’' the aim of these manoeuvres, flashed across 
me. It was simple almost to ludicrousness : yet 
it was very serious, for it showed a reasoned plan 
of campaign with which we were very ill-prepared 
to cope. While the three held us in check, the 
five were going to carry off our cows. Without 
our cows we should soon be hard put to it for 
food, for the cows had formed in our plans a most 
important piece de resistance, 

“This won’t do,” said I. “They’re after the 
cows.” I took the rifle from Denny’s hand, cau- 
tioning him not to show his face at the window. 
Then I stood in the shelter of the wall, so that I 
could not be hit by the three, and levelled the 
rifle, not at my human enemies, but at the un- 
offending cows. 


A Raid and a Raiden 63 

dead cow,” I remarked, ‘‘is a great deal 
harder to move than a live one.” 

The five had now come quite near the pen of 
rude hurdles in which the cows were. As I 
spoke, Constantine appeared to give some order ; 
and while he and the boy stood looking on, Con- 
stantine leaning on his gun, the boy’s hand rest- 
ing with jaunty elegance on the handle of the 
knife in his girdle, the others leaped over the 
hurdles. Crack ! went the rifle, and a cow fell. 
I reloaded hastily. Crack ! and the second cow 
fell. It was very fair shooting in such a bad 
light, for I hit both mortally ; my skill was re- 
warded by a shout of anger from the robbers. 
(For robbers they were; I had bought the live- 
stock.) 

“ Carry them off now ! ” I cried, carelessly 
showing myself at the window. But I did not 
stay there long, for three shots rang out, and the 
bullets pattered on the masonry above me. 
Luckily the covering-party had aimed a trifle too 
high. 

“ No more milk, my lord,” observed Watkins 
in a regretful tone. He had seen the catastrophe 
from the other window. 

The besiegers were checked. They leaped out 
of the pen with alacrity. I suppose they realised 
that they were exposed to my fire, while at that 
particular angle I was protected from the attack 


64 


Phroso: A Romance# 


of their friends. They withdrew to the middle 
of the road, selecting a spot at which I could not 
take aim without showing myself at the window. 
I dared not look out to see what they were doing. 
But presently Hogvardt risked a glance, and 
called out that they were in retreat and had re- 
joined the three, and that the whole body stood 
together in consultation and were no longer cov- 
ering my window. So I looked out, and saw the 
boy standing in an easy graceful attitude, while 
Constantine and Vlacho talked a little way apart. 
It was growing considerably darker now, and the 
figures became dim and indistinct. 

I think the fun’s over for to-night,” said I, 
glad to have it over so cheaply. 

Indeed, what I said seemed to be true, for the 
next moment the group turned and began to re- 
treat along the road, moving briskly out of our 
sight. We were left in the thick gloom of a moon- 
less evening and the peaceful silence of still air. 

They’ll come back and fetch the cows,” said 
Hogvardt. ‘‘ Couldn’t we drag one in, my lord, 
and put it where the goat is, behind the house? ” 

I approved of this suggestion ; and, Watkins 
having found a rope, I armed Denny with the 
rifle, took from the wall a large, keen hunting- 
knife, opened the door, and stole out, accom- 
panied by Hogvardt and Watkins, who carried 
their revolvers. We reached the pen without 



HE WALKED UP AND DOWN HIS OWN DECK WITH HER ALL 


THE EVENING 








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A Raf<j and a Raider^ 65 

interruption, tied our rope firmly round the horns 
of one of the dead beasts, and set to work to 
drag it along. It was no child’s play, and our 
progress was very slow, but the carcass moved^ 
and I gave a shout of encouragement as we got 
it down on to the smoother ground of the road 
and hauled it along with a will. Alas, that shout 
was a great indiscretion ! I had been too hasty 
in assuming that our enemy was quite gone. We 
heard suddenly the rush of feet ; shots whistled 
over our heads. We had but just time to drop 
the rope and turn round, when Denny’s rifle rang 
out, and then — somebody was at us ! I really 
do not know exactly how many there were. I 
had two at me, but by great good luck I drove 
my big knife into one fellow s arm at the first 
hazard, and I think that was enough for him. In 
my other assailant I recognised Vlacho. The 
fat innkeeper had got rid of his gun, and had a 
knife much like the one I carried myself. I 
knew him more by his voice, as he cried fiercely. 
Come on ! ” than by his appearance, for the 
darkness was thick now. Parrying his fierce 
thrust — he was very active for so stout a man — I 
called out to our people to fall back as quickly 
as they could, for I was afraid that we might be 
taken in the rear also. 

But discipline is hard to maintain in such a 
force as mine. 


55 


Phrosoj A Romance# 


** Bosh ! cried Denny^s voice. 

Mein Gott, no ! exclaimed Hogvardt. Wat- 
kins said nothing, but for once in his life he also 
disobeyed me. 

Well, if they would not do as I said, I must do 
as they did. The line advanced, — the whole 
line, as at Waterloo. We pressed them hard. I 
heard a revolver fired, and a cry follow. Fat 
Vlacho slackened in his attack, wavered, halted, 
turned, and ran. A shout of triumph from 
Denny told me that the battle was going well 
there. Fired with victory, I set myself for a 
chase. But, alas, my pride was checked. Before 
I had gone two yards I fell headlong over the 
body for which we had been fighting (as Greeks 
and Trojans fought for the body of Hector), and 
came to an abrupt stop, sprawling most ignomi- 
niously over the cow’s broad back. 

“Stop! Stop!” I cried. “ Wait a bit, Denny ! 
I’m down over this infernal cow.” It was 
an inglorious ending to the exploits of the even- 
ing. 

Prudence or my cry stopped them. The 
enemy was in full retreat ; their steps pattered 
quick along the rocky road ; and Denny ob- 
served, in a tone of immense satisfaction, — 

“ I think that’s our trick, Charley.” 

“ Anybody hurt ? ” I asked, scrambling to my 
feet. 


A Raid and a Raider^ 


67 


Watkins owned to a crack from the stock of a 
gun on his right shoulder, Hogvardt to a graze 
of a knife on the left arm. Denny was unhurt. 
We had reason to suppose that we had left our 
mark on at least two of the enemy. For so 
great a victory it was cheaply bought. 

‘‘We’ll just drag in the cow,” said I, — I like 
to stick to my point, — “ and then we might see 
if there’s anything in the cellar.” 

We did drag in the cow ; we dragged it through 
the house, and finally bestowed it in the com- 
pound behind. Hogvardt suggested that we 
should fetch the other also, but I had no mind 
for another surprise, which might not end so hap- 
pily, and I decided to run the risk of leaving the 
second animal till the morning. So Watkins ran 
off to seek for some wine, for which we all felt 
very ready, and I went to the door with the in- 
tention of securing it. But before I shut it, I 
stood for a moment on the step, looking out on 
the night and sniffing the sweet, clear, pure air. 
It was in quiet moments like this — not in such a 
tumult as had just passed — that I had pictured 
my beautiful island ; and the love of it came on 
me now and made me swear that these fellows 
and their arch-ruffian, Constantine, should not 
drive me out of it without some more — and more 
serious — blows than had been struck that night. 
If I could get away safely and return with 


68 


Phroso; A Romance* 


enough force to keep them quiet, I would pursue 
that course. If not — well, I believe I had very- 
bloodthirsty thoughts in my mind, as even the 
most peaceable man may when he has been 
served as I had and his friends roughly handled 
on his account. 

Having registered these determinations, I was 
about to proceed with my task of securing the 
door when I heard a sound that startled me. 
There was nothing hostile or alarming about it ; 
rather it was pathetic and appealing, and, in spite 
of my previous fierceness of mood, it caused me 
to exclaim, ‘‘ Hullo, is that one of those poor 
beggars we mauled.^'' For the sound was a 
faint, distressed sigh, as of somebody in suffer- 
ing ; it seemed to come from out of the darkness 
about a dozen yards ahead of me. My first im- 
pulse was to go straight to the spot, but I had 
begun by now to doubt whether the Neopalians 
were not unsophisticated in quite as peculiar a 
sense as that in which they were good-hearted, 
and I called to Denny and Hogvardt, bidding 
the latter to bring his lantern with him. Thus 
protected, I stepped out of the door in the direc- 
tion from which the sigh had come. Apparently 
we were to crown our victory by the capture of 
a wounded enemy. 

An exclamation from Hogvardt told me that 
he, aided by the lantern, had come on the quarry ; 


A RaicJ and a Raidcn 69 

but Hogvardt spoke in disgust rather than tri- 
umph. 

“ Oh, it’s only the little one ! ” said he. 
‘‘ What’s wrong with him, I wonder.” He stooped 
down and examined the prostrate form. By 
heaven, I believe he’s not touched — yes, there’s 
a bump on his forehead, but not big enough for 
any of us to have given it.” 

By this time Denny and I were with him, and 
we looked down on the boy’s pale face, which 
seemed almost deathlike in the glare of the lan- 
tern. The bump was not such a very small one, 
but it could hardly have been made by any of our 
weapons, for the flesh was not cut. A moment’s 
further inspection showed that it must be the 
result of a fall on the hard rocky road. 

Perhaps he tripped on the cord, as you did 
on the cow,” suggested Denny with a grin. 

It seemed likely enough, but I gave very little 
thought to the question, for I was busy studying 
the boy’s face. 

No doubt,” said Hogvardt. ‘‘ He fell in run- 
ning away and was stunned ; and they didn’t 
notice it in the dark, or were afraid to stop. But 
they’ll be back, my lord, and soon.” 

Carry him inside,” said I. ‘‘ It won’t hurt us 
to have a hostage.” 

Denny lifted the lad in his long arms — Denny 
was a tall, powerful fellow — and strode off with 


70 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


him. I followed, wondering who it was that we 
had got hold of : for the boy was strikingly 
handsome. I was last in and barred the door. 
Denny had set our prisoner down in an arm- 
chair, where he sat now, conscious again, but 
still with a dazed look in his large dark eyes as 
he glanced from me to the rest and back again to 
me, finally fixing a long gaze on my face. 

‘‘Well, young man/’ said I, “you’ve begun 
this sort of thing early. Lifting cattle and tak- 
ing murder in the day’s work is pretty good for 
a youngster like you. Who are you ? ” 

“ Where am I ? ” he cried, in that blurred in- 
distinct kind of voice that comes with mental 
bewilderment. 

“You’re in my house,” said I, “and the rest 
of your infernal gang’s outside and going to 
stay there. So you must make the best of it.” 

The boy turned his head away and closed his 
eyes. Suddenly I snatched the lantern from 
Hogvardt. But I paused before I brought it 
close to the boy’s face, as I had meant to do, and 
I said, — 

“You fellows go and get something to eat, and 
a snooze if you like. I’ll look after this young- 
ster. I’ll call you if anything happens outside.” 

After a few unselfish protests, they did as I 
bade them. I was left alone in the hall with the 
prisoner ; soon merry voices from the kitchen 


A Raid and a Raidcn 71 

told me that the battle was being fought again 
over the wine. I set the lantern close to the 
boy’s face. 

‘‘ H’m,” said I, after a prolonged scrutiny. 
Then I sat down on the table, and began to hum 
softly that wretched chant of One-eyed Alexan- 
der’s, which had a terrible trick of sticking in a 
man’s head. 

For a few minutes I hummed. The lad shiv- 
ered, stirred uneasily, and opened his eyes. I 
had never seen such eyes ; I could not conscien- 
tiously except even Beatrice Hipgrave’s, which 
were in their way quite fine. I hummed away ; 
and the boy said, still in a dreamy voice, but 
with an imploring gesture of his hand, — 

‘‘Ah, no, not that! Not that, Constantine!” 

“ He’s a tender-hearted youth,” said I, and I 
was smiling now. The whole episode was singu- 
larly unusual and interesting. 

The boy’s eyes were on mine again ; I met his 
glance, full and square. Then I poured out some 
water and gave it to him. He took it with 
trembling hand — the hand did not escape my 
notice — and drank it eagerly, setting the glass 
down with a sigh. 

“I am Lord Wheatley,” said I, nodding U 
him. “ You came to steal my cattle, and murdei 
me, if it happened to be convenient, you know.” 

The boy flashed out at me in a minute. 


72 


Phroso: A Romance# 


‘‘I didn't. I thought you’d surrender if we 
got the cattle away.” 

*‘You thought!” said I scornfully. ‘‘I sup- 
pose you did as you were bid.” 

‘‘No; I told Constantine that they weren’t 

to ” The boy stopped short, looked round 

him, and said in a questioning voice, “Where 
are all the rest of my people ? ” 

“The rest of your people,” said I, “have run 
away, and you are in my hands. And I can do 
just as I please with you.” 

His lips set in an obstinate curve, but he made 
no answer. I went on as sternly as I could. 

“ And when I think of what I saw here yester- 
day, of that poor old man stabbed by your blood- 
thirsty crew ” 

“ It was an accident,” he cried sharply. The 
voice had lost its dreaminess and sounded clear 
now. 

“We’ll see about that when we get Constan- 
tine and Vlacho before a judge,” I retorted 
grimly. “Anyhow, he was foully stabbed in his 
own house, for doing what he had a perfect right 
to do.” 

“ He had no right to sell the island,” cried the 
boy, and he rose for a moment to his feet with a 
proud air, only to sink back into the chair again 
and stretch out his hand for water. 

Now at this moment Denny, refreshed by 


A Raid and a Raiden 73 

meat and drink and in the highest of spirits, 
bounded into the hall. 

‘‘ How's the prisoner ? he cried. 

** Oh, he’s all right. There’s nothing the mat- 
ter with him,” I said, and as I spoke I moved 
the lantern, so that the boy’s face and figure 
were again in shadow. 

‘‘That’s all right,” observed Denny cheerfully ; 
“ Because I thought, Charley, we might get 
a little information out of him.” 

“ Perhaps he won’t speak,” I suggested, cast- 
ing a glance at the captive, who sat now motion- 
less in the chair. 

“ Oh, I think he will,” said Denny confidently ; 
and I observed for the first time that he held a 
very substantial-looking whip in his hand ; he 
must have found it in the kitchen. “ We’ll give 
the young ruffian a taste of this, if he’s obsti- 
nate,” said Denny, and I cannot say that his tone 
witnessed any great desire that the boy should 
prove at once compliant. 

I shifted my lantern so that I could see the 
proud young face, while Denny could not. The 
boy’s eyes met mine defiantly. 

“ Do you see that whip ? ” I asked. “Will you 
tell us all we want to know ? ” 

The boy made no answer, but I saw trouble in 
his face, and his eyes did not meet mine so 
boldly now. 


74 


Phroso: A Romance* 


We'll soon find a tongue for him," said 
Denny, in cheerful barbarity ; upon my word, 
he richly deserves a thrashing. Say the word, 
Charley ! " 

‘‘We haven't asked him anything yet," said 1. 

“Oh, I'll ask him something. Look here, who 
was the fellow with you and Vlacho } " 

Denny spoke in English ; I turned his question 
into Greek. But the prisoner's eyes told me 
that he had understood before I spoke. I smiled 
again. 

The boy was silent ; defiance and fear struggled 
in the dark eyes. 

“You see, he's an obstinate beggar," said 
Denny, as though he had observed all necessary 
forms and could now get to business ; and he 
drew the lash of the whip through his fingers. I 
am afraid Denny was rather looking forward to 
executing justice with his own hands. 

The boy rose again and stood facing that 
heartless young ruffian Denny — it was thus that 
I thought of Denny at the moment ; then once 
again he sank back into his chair and covered his 
face with his hands. 

“ Well, I wouldn't go out killing if I hadn't 
more pluck than that," said Denny scornfully. 
“ You're not fit for the trade, my lad." 

I did not interpret this time ; there was no 
need ; the boy certainly understood. But he had 


A Raid and a Raiden 75 

lio retort. His face was buried in those slim 
hands of his. For a moment he was quite still: 
then he moved a little ; it was a movement that 
spoke of helpless pain, and I heard something 
very like a stifled sob. 

Just leave us alone a little, Denny,'’ said I. 

He may tell me what he won't tell you." 

‘‘ Are you going to let him off ? " demanded 
Denny suspiciously. ‘‘You never can be stiff in 
the back, Charley." 

“ I must see if he won't speak to me first," I 
pleaded meekly. 

“ But if he won't ? " insisted Denny. 

“ If he won’t," said I, “ and you still wish it, 
you may do what you like." 

Denny sheered off to the kitchen, with an air 
that did not seek to conceal his opinion of my 
foolish tender-heartedness. Again I was alone 
with the boy. 

“ My friend is right," said I gravely. “You're 
not fit for the trade. How came you to be in 
it?" 

My question brought a new look as the boy's 
hands dropped from his face. 

“How came you," said I, “who ought to re- 
strain these rascals, to beat their head? How 
came you. who ought to shun the society of 
men like Constantine Stefanopoulos and his tool 
Vlacho, to be working with them ? " 


76 


Phroso: A Romance 


I got no answer ; only a frightened look ap- 
pealed to me in the white glare of Hogvardt's 
lantern. I came a step nearer and leaned for- 
ward to ask my next question. 

“ Who are you ? What's your name? 

My name — my name ? ” stammered the pris- 
oner. ‘‘ I won’t tell my name." 

‘‘You’ll tell me nothing? You heard what I 
promised my friend ? ’’ 

“Yes, I heard," said the lad, with a face utterly 
pale, but with eyes that were again set in fierce 
determination. 

I laughed a low laugh. 

“ I believe you are fit for the trade after all," 
said I, and I looked at him with mingled distaste 
and admiration. But I had my last weapon still, 
my last question. I turned the lantern full on 
his face, I leaned forward again, and I said in dis- 
tinct, slow tones — and the question sounded an 
absurd one to be spoken in such an impressive 
way, — ' 

“ Do you generally wear — clothes like that? " 

I had got home with that question. The pal- 
lour vanished, the haughty eyes sank. I saw 
long drooping lashes and a burning flush, and the 
boy’s face once again sought his hands. 

At the moment I heard chairs pushed back in 
the kitchen. In came Hogvardt with an amused 
smile on his broad face ; in came Watkins with 


A Raid and a Raider. 


77 


his impassive acquiescence in anything that his 
lordship might order ; in came Master Denny 
brandishing his whip in jovial relentlessness. 

‘‘Well, has he told you anything?’' cried 
Denny. It was plain that he hoped for the an- 
swer “ No.” 

“ I have asked him half-a-dozen questions,” 
said I, “ and he has not answered one.” 

“All right,” said Denny, with wonderful em- 
phasis. 

Had I been wrong to extort this much punish- 
m e n t for my most inhospitable reception ? 
Sometimes now I think that I was cruel. In 
that night much had occurred to breed viciousness 
in a man of the most equable temper. But the 
thing had now gone to the extreme limit to 
which it could go, and I said to Denny, — 

“ It’s a gross case of obstinacy, of course, 
Denny, but I don’t see very well how we can 
horsewhip the lady.” 

A sudden astonished cry, “ The lady ! ” rang 
from three pairs of lips, while the lady herself 
dropped her head on the table and fenced her 
face round about with her protecting arms. 

“You see,” said I, “this lad is the Lady Eu- 
phrosyne.” 

For who else could it be that would give or- 
ders to Constantine Stefanopoulos, and ask 
where “ my people ” were ? Who else, I also 


78 


Phroso: A Romance* 


asked myself, save the daughter of the noble 
house, would boast the air, the hands, the face, 
that graced our young prisoner? And who else 
would understand English? In all certainty 
here was the Lady Euphrosyne* 


CHAPTER Vo 

The Cottagfc on the Hilh 

The effect of my remark was curious. Denny 
flushed scarlet and flung his whip down on the 
table ; the others stood for a moment motionless, 
then turned tail and slunk back to the kitchen. 
Euphrosyne’s face remained invisible. On the 
other hand, I felt quite at my ease. I had a 
triumphant conviction of the importance of my 
capture, and a determination that no misplaced 
chivalry should rob me of it. Politeness is, no 
doubt, a duty, but only a relative duty ; and, in 
plain English, men’s lives were at stake here. 
Therefore I did not make my best bow, fling 
open the door, and tell the lady that she was free 
to go whither she would, but I said to her in a 
dry, severe voice, — 

“ You had better go, madame, to the room you 
usually occupy here, while we consider what to 
do with you. You know where the room is; I 
don’t.” 

She raised her head, and said in tones that 
sounded almost eager, — 


8o 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


My own room ? May I go there ? '' 

‘‘ Certainly/' said I. I shall accompany you 
as far as the door ; and when you've gone in, I 
shall lock the door." 

This programme was duly carried out, Euphro- 
syne not favouring me with a word during its 
progress. Then I returned to the hall, and said 
to Denny, — 

‘‘ Rather a trump card, isn't she } " 

Yes, but they'll be back pretty soon to look 
for her, I expect." 

Denny accompanied this remark with such a 
yawn that I suggested he should go to bed. 

‘‘Aren’t you going to bed ? " he asked. 

“ I'll take first watch," said I. “ It's nearly 
twelve now. I'll wake you at two, and you can 
wake Hogvardt at five ; then Watkins will be fit 
and fresh at breakfast-time, and can give us roast 
cow." 

Thus I was again left alone ; and I sat review- 
ing the position. Would the islanders fight for 
their Lady? Or would they let us go? They 
would only let us go, I felt sure, if Constantine 
were out-voted, for he could not afford to see me 
leave Neopalia with a head on my shoulders and 
a tongue in my mouth. Then, probably, they 
would fight. Well, I calculated that, as long as 
our provisions held out, we could not be stormed ; 
our stone fortress was too strong. But we could 


The Cottage on the Hilh 8i 

be beleaguered and starved out, and should be 
very soon unless the lady’s influence could help 
us. I had just arrived at the conclusion that I 
would talk to her very seriously in the morning 
when I heard a remarkable sound. 

‘'There never was such a place for queer 
noises,” said I, pricking up my ears. 

This noise seemed to come directly from above 
my head ; it sounded as though a light, stealthy 
tread were passing over the roof of the hall in 
which I sat. The only person in the house 
besides ourselves was the prisoner : she had been 
securely locked in her room ; how then could she 
be on the top of the hall? For her room was in 
the turret above the doorway. Yet the steps 
crept over my head, going towards the kitchen. 
I snatched up my revolver and trod, with a 
stealth equal to the stealth of the steps overhead, 
across the hall and into the kitchen beyond. 
My three companions slept the sleep of tired 
men, but I roused Denny ruthlessly. 

“ Go on guard in the hall,” said I. I want 
to have a look round.” 

Denny was sleepy but obedient. I saw him 
start for the hall, and went on till I reached the 
compound behind the house. 

Here I stood deep in the shadow of the wall; 
the steps were now over my head again. I 
glanced up cautiously, and above me, on the roof, 


S2 Phfoso: A Romance# 

three yards to the left, I saw the flutter of a white 
kilt. 

‘‘ There are more ways out of this house than 
I know,’* I thought to myself. 

I heard next a noise as though of something 
being pushed cautiously along the flat roof. 
Then there protruded from between two of the 
battlements the end of a ladder. I crouched 
closer under the wall. The light flight of steps 
was let down ; it reached the ground ; the kilted 
figure stepped on it and began to descend. Here 
was the Lady Euphrosyne again. Her eager- 
ness to go to her own room was fully explained : 
there was a way from it across the house, and 
out on to the roof of the kitchen ; the ladder 
showed that the way was kept in use. I stood 
still. She reached the ground, and, as she 
touched it she gave the softest possible little laugh 
of gleeful triumph : a pretty little laugh it was. 
Then she walked briskly across the compound till 
she reached the rocks on the other side. I crept 
forward after her, for I was afraid of losing sight 
of her in the darkness, and yet did not desire to 
arrest her progress till I saw where she was going. 
On she went, skirting the perpendicular drop of 
rock. I was behind her now. At last she came 
to the angle formed by the rock running north 
and that which, turning to the east, enclosed the 
compound. 


The G)ttage on the Hilh 83 

How's she going to get up?" I asked my- 
self. 

But up she began to go, her right foot on the 
north rock, her left on the east. She ascended 
with such confidence that it was evident that 
steps were ready for her feet. She gained the 
top ; I began to mount in the same fashion, 
finding the steps cut in the face of the cliflf. 
I reached the top and saw her standing still, ten 
yards ahead of me. She went on ; I followed ; 
she stopped, looked, saw me, screamed. I rushed 
on her. Her arm dealt a blow at me ; I caught 
her hand, and in her hand there was a little 
dagger. Seizing her other hand, I held her fast. 

Where are you going to ? " I asked in a mat- 
ter-of-fact tone, taking no notice of her hasty 
resort to the dagger. No doubt that was merely 
a national trait. 

Seeing that she was caught, she made no at- 
tempt to struggle. 

“ I was trying to escape," she said. “ Did you 
hear me? " 

‘‘Yes, I heard you. Where were you going 
to?" 

“ Why should I tell you ? Shall you threaten 
me with the whip again ? " 

I loosed her hands. She gave a sudden glance 
up the hill. She seemed to measure the dis- 
tance. 


84 


Phroso : A Romance* 


Why do you want to go to the top of the 
hill ? ’' I asked. ‘‘ Have you friends there ? 

She denied the suggestion, as I thought she 
would. 

No, I have not. But anywhere is better 
than with you.'* 

“Yet there's some one in the cottage up 
there," I observed. “ It belongs to Constantine, 
doesn't it ? " 

“Yes, it does," she answered defiantly. “ Dare 
you go and seek him there ? Or dare you only 
skulk behind the walls of the house ? " 

“ As long as we are four against a hundred I dare 
only skulk," I answered. She did not annoy me at 
all by her taunts. “ But do you think he's there ? " 

“There! No; he’s in the town; and he'll 
come from the town to kill you to-morrow." 

“ Then is nobody there ? " I pursued. 

“ Nobody," she answered. 

“You're wrong," said I. “I saw somebody 
there to-day." 

“ Oh, a peasant perhaps," 

“Well, the dress didn’t look like it. Do you 
really want to go there now?" 

“Haven’t you mocked me enough?" she 
burst out. “ Take me back to my prison." 

Her tragedy-air was quite delightful. But I 
had been leading her up to something which I 
thought she ought to know. 


8s 


The Cottag:e on the HilL 

“ There’s a woman in that cottage,” said I. 
“ Not a peasant ; a woman in some dark-coloured 
dress, who uses opera-glasses.” 

I saw her draw back with a start of surprise. 

‘‘ It’s false,” she cried. ‘‘ There’s no one there. 
Constantine told me no one went there except 
Vlacho and sometimes Demetri.” 

‘‘ Do you believe all Constantine tells you ? ” 
I asked. 

Why should I not ? He’s my cousin, and ” 

‘‘ And your suitor ? ” 

She flung her head back proudly. 

I have no shame in that,” she answered. 

‘‘ You would accept his offer ? ” 

‘‘Since you ask, I will answer. Yes. I had 
promised my uncle that I would.” 

“Good God!” said I, for I was very sorry for 
her. 

The emphasis of my exclamation seemed to 
startle her afresh. I felt her glance rest on me 
in puzzled questioning. 

“ Did Constantine let you see the old woman 
whom I sent to him ? ” I demanded. 

“ No,” she murmured. “He told me what she 
said.” 

“ That I told him he was his uncle’s murderer? ” 

“ Did you tell her to say that ? ” she asked, 
with a sudden inclination of her body towards 
me. 


86 


Phroso: A Romance* 


‘‘ I did. Did he give you the message? 

She made no answer. I pressed my advam 
tage. 

On my honour, I saw what I have told you 
at the cottage,'' I said. I know what it means 
no more than you do. But before I came here, 
I saw Constantine in London. And there I 
heard a lady say she would come with him. Did 
any lady come with him ? " 

Are you mad ? " she asked ; but I could hear 
her breathing quickly, and I knew that her scorn 
was assumed. I drew suddenly away from her, 
and put my hands behind my back. 

‘‘ Go to the cottage if you like," said I. But 
I won't answer for what you'll find there." 

You set me free ? " she cried with eagerness. 

Free to go to the cottage ; you must promise 
to come back. Or I'll go to the cottage, if you'll 
promise to go back to your room and wait till I 
return." 

She hesitated, looking again towards where the 
cottage was ; but I had stirred suspicion and dis- 
quietude in her. She dared not face what she 
might find in the cottage. 

I'll go back and wait for you," she said. If 

I went to the cottage and and all was well 

I'm afraid I shouldn't come back." 

The tone sounded softer. I would have sworn 
that a smile or a half-smile accompanied the 


87 


The Cottagfe on the Hill^ 

words, but it was too dark to be sure, and when 
I leaned forward to look, Euphrosyne drew back. 

Then you mustn't go," said I decisively ; “ I 
can't afford to lose you. 

But if you let me go, I could let you go," 
she cried. 

‘‘ Could you ? Without asking Constantine ? 
Besides, it’s my island, you see." 

It's not," she cried, with a stamp of her foot. 
And without more she walked straight by me 
and disappeared over the ledge of rock. Two 
minutes later I saw her figure defined against the 
sky, a black shadow on the deep grey ground ; 
then she disappeared. I set my face straight for 
the cottage under the summit of the hill. I 
knew that I had only to go straight and I must 
come to the little plateau, scooped out of the 
hillside, on which the cottage stood. I found, 
not a path, but a sort of rough track that led in 
the desired direction, and along this I made my 
way very cautiously. At one point it was joined 
at right angles by another track, from the side of 
the hill where the main road across the island 
lay. This, of course, afforded an approach to the 
cottage without passing by my house. In twenty 
minutes the cottage loomed, a blurred mass, be- 
fore me. I fell on my knees and peered at it. 

There was a light in one of the windows. I 
crawled nearer. Now I was on the plateau, a 


88 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


moment later I was under the wooden verandah 
and beneath the window where the light glowed. 
My hand was on my revolver ; if Constantine or 
Vlacho caught me here, neither side would be 
able to stand on trifles ; even my desire for legal- 
ity would fail under the strain. But for the min- 
ute everything was quiet, and I began to fear 
that I should have to return empty-handed ; for 
it would be growing light in another hour or so, 
and I must be gone before the day began to ap- 
pear. Ah, there was a sound — a sound that ap- 
pealed to me after my climb — the sound of wine 
poured into a glass ; then came a voice I knew. 

‘‘ Probably they have caught her,*' said Vlacho 
the innkeeper. What of that ? They will not 
hurt her, and she'll be kept safe." 

‘‘You mean she can’t come spying about here ? " 
“ Exactly. And that, my Lord, is an advan- 
tage. If she came here ’’ 

“ Oh, the deuce ! ’’ laughed Constantine. “ But 
won’t the men want me to free her by letting that 
infernal crew go ? ’’ 

“ Not if they think Wheatley will go to 
Rhodes and get soldiers and return. They love 
the island more than her. It will all go well, my 
Lord. And this other here ? ’’ 

I strained my ears to listen. No answer came, 
yet Vlacho went on as though he had received 
an answer. 


89 


iThc G>ttage on the HiIL 

These cursed fellows make that difficult, too,’' 
he said. “ It would be an epidemic.” He 
laughed, seeming to see wit in his own remark. 

Curse them, yes. We must move cautiously,” 
said Constantine. What a nuisance women 
are, Vlacho.” 

Aye, too many of them,” laughed Vlacho. 

I had to swear my life out that no one was 
here, and then, ‘ If no one’s there, why mayn’t I 
come ? ’ You know the sort of thing.” 

Indeed, no, my Lord. You wrong me,” pro- 
tested Vlacho humorously, and Constantine 
joined in his laugh. 

‘‘You’ve made up your mind which, I gather?” 
asked Vlacho. 

“ Oh, this one, beyond doubt,” answered his 
master. 

Now I thought that I understood most of this 
conversation, and I was very sorry that Euphro- 
syne was not by my side to listen to it. But I 
had heard about enough for my purposes, and I 
had turned to crawl away stealthily — it is not 
well to try fortune too far — when I heard the 
sound of a door opening in the house. Constan- 
tine’s voice followed directly on the sound. 

“ Ah, my darling, my sweet wife,” he cried, “ not 
sleeping yet? Where will your beauty be? Vlacho 
and I must work and plan for your sake, but you 
need not spoil your eyes with sleeplessness.” 


96 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


Constantine did it uncommonly well. His 
manner was a pattern for husbands. I was guilty 
of a quiet laugh all to myself in the verandah. 

For me? You're sure it’s for me ? ” came in 
that Greek with a strange accent, which had first 
fallen on my ears in the Optimum restaurant. 

‘‘ She’s jealous, she’s most charmingly jealous ! ” 
cried Constantine in playful rapture. Does 
your wife pay you such compliments, Vlacho ? ” 
She has no cause, my Lord. But my Lady 
Francesca thinks she has cause to be jealous of 
the Lady Euphrosyne.” 

Constantine laughed scornfully at the sugges- 
tion. 

“ Where is she now ? ” came swift and sharp 
from the woman. “ Where is Euphrosyne ? ” 
Why, she’s a prisoner to that Englishman,” 
answered Constantine. 

I suppose explanations passed at this point, 
for the voices fell to a lower level, as is apt to 
happen in the telling of a long story, and I could 
not catch what was said till Constantine’s tones 
rose again as he remarked, — 

Oh, yes ; we must have a try at getting her 
out, just to satisfy the people. For me, she 
might stay there as long as she likes, for I care 
for her just as little as, between ourselves, I be- 
lieve she cares for me.” 

Really this fellow was a very tidy villain ; as a 


91 


The Cottage on the Hill* 

pair, Vlacho and he would be hard to beat — in 
England, at all events. About Neopalia I had 
learned to reserve my opinion. Such were my 
reflections as I turned to resume my interrupted 
crawl to safety. But in an instant I was still 
again — still, and crouching close under the wall, 
motionless as an insect that feigns death, holding 
my breath, my hand on the trigger. For the 
door of the cottage was flung open, and Constan- 
tine and Vlacho appeared on the threshold. 

“ Ah,’' said Vlacho, ‘‘ dawn is near. See, it 
grows lighter on the horizon.” 

A more serious matter was that, owing to the 
open door and the lamp inside, it had grown 
lighter on the verandah, so light that I saw the 
three figures — for the woman had come also — in 
the doorway, so light that my huddled shape 
would be seen if any of the three turned an eye 
towards it. I could have picked off both men 
before they could move ; but a civilised educa- 
tion has drawbacks ; it makes a man scrupulous ; 
I did not fire. I lay still, hoping that I should 
not be noticed. And I should not have been 
noticed but for one thing. Acting up to his part 
in the ghastly farce which these two ruffians 
were playing with the wife of one of them, Con- 
stantine turned to bestow kisses on the woman 
before he parted from her. Vlacho, in a mock- 
ery that was horrible to me who knew his heart, 


92 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


must needs be facetious. With a laugh he drew 
back ; he drew back farther still ; he was but a 
couple of feet from the wall of the house, and 
that couple of feet I filled. In a moment, with 
one step backwards, he would be upon me. 
Perhaps he would not have made that step ; per- 
haps I should have gone, by grace of that narrow 
interval, undetected. But the temptation was 
too strong for me. The thought of the thing 
threatened to make me laugh. I had a penknife 
in my pocket. I opened it, and I dug it hard 
into that portion of Vlacho’s frame which came 
most conveniently and prominently to my hand. 
Then, leaving the penknife where it was, I leaped 
up, gave the howling ruffian a mighty shove, and 
with a loud laugh of triumph bolted for my life 
down the hill. But when I had gone twenty 
yards I dropped on my knees, for bullet after 
bullet whistled over my head. Constantine — the 
outraged Vlacho too, perhaps — carried a re- 
volver! Their barrels were being emptied after 
me. I rose and turned one hasty glance behind 
me. Yes, I saw their dim shapes like moving 
trees. I fired once, twice, thrice, in my turn, 
and then went crashing and rushing down the 
path that I had ascended so cautiously. I can- 
noned against the tree trunks; I tripped over 
trailing branches ; I stumbled over stones. Once 
I paused and fired the rest of my barrels. A yell 


93 


The G)tta8fc on the HiIL 

told me I had hit — but Vlacho, alas, not Con- 
stantine ; I knew the voice. At the same instant 
my fire was returned, and a bullet went through 
my hat. I was defenceless now, save for my 
heels, and to them I took again with all speed. 
But as I crashed along, one at least of them came 
crashing after me ! Yes, it was only one ! I had 
checked Vlacho's career. It was Constantine 
alone. I suppose one of your heroes of romance 
would have stopped and faced him, for with them 
it is not etiquette to run away from one man. 
Ah, well, I ran away. For all I knew, Constan- 
tine might still have a shot in the locker ; I had 
none. And if Constantine killed me, he would 
kill the only man who knew all his secrets. So I 
ran. And just as I got within ten yards of the 
drop into my own territory, I heard a wild cry : 

Charley ! Charley ! Where the devil are you, 
Charley?^’ 

Why, here, of course,” said I, coming to the 
top of the bank and dropping over. 

I have no doubt that it was the cry uttered by 
Denny which gave pause to Constantine’s pur- 
suit. He would not desire to face all four of us. 
At any rate the sound of his pursuing feet died 
away and ceased. I suppose he went back to 
look after Vlacho and show himself safe and 
sound to that most unhappy woman, his wife. 
As for me, when I found myself safe and sound 


94 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


in the compound, I said Thank God ! And I 
meant it, too. Then I looked round. Certainly 
the sight that met my eyes had a touch of com- 
edy in it. 

Denny, Hogvardt, and Watkins stood in the 
compound. Their backs were towards me, and 
they were all staring up at the roof of the 
kitchen, with expressions which the cold light of 
morning revealed in all their puzzled foolishness. 
And on the top of the roof, unassailable and out 
of reach — for no ladder ran from roof to ground 
now — stood Euphrosyne, in her usual attitude of 
easy grace. Euphrosyne was not taking the 
smallest notice of the helpless three below, but 
stood quite still with unmoved face, gazing up 
towards the cottage. The whole thing reminded 
me of nothing so much as of a pretty composed 
cat in a tree, with three infuriated helpless terriers 
barking round the trunk. I began to laugh. 
^'What’s all the shindy?” called out Denny. 

Who’s doing revolver-practice in the wood ? 
And how the dickens did she get there, Charley ? ” 
But when the still figure on the roof saw me, the 
impassivity of it vanished. Euphrosyne leaned 
forward, clasping her hands, and said to me, — 
Have you killed him ? ” 

The question vexed me. It would have been 
civil to accompany it, at all events, with an in- 
quiry as to my own health. 


The Cottage on the Hill. 95 

Killed him ? I answered gruffly. No, he’s 
sound enough.” 

And ” she began ; but now she glanced, 

seemingly for the first time, at my friends below. 
‘‘You must come and tell me,” she said, and 
with that she turned and disappeared from our 
gaze behind the battlements. I listened intently. 
No sound came from the wood that rose grey in 
the new light behind us. 

“What have you been doing?” demanded 
Denny surlily ; he had not enjoyed Euphrosyne’s 
scornful attitude. 

“ I have been running for my life,” said I, 
“ from the biggest scoundrels unhanged. Denny, 
make a guess who lives in that cottage.” 

“ Constantine? ” 

“ I don’t mean him.” 

“Not Vlacho — he’s at the inn.” 

“No, I don’t mean Vlacho.” 

“ Who then, man ? ” 

“Some one you’ve seen.” 

“ Oh, I give it up. It’s not the time of day 
for riddles.” 

“ The lady who dined at the next table to 
ours at the C)ptimum,” said I. 

Denny jumped back in amazement, with a long 
low whistle. 

“What, the one who was with Constantine?” 
he cried. 


96 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


‘‘Yes/' said I, “the one who was with Con- 
stantine." 

They were all three round me now ; and, think- 
ing that it would be better that they should 
know what I knew, and four lives instead of one 
stand between a ruffian and the impunity he 
hoped for, I raised my voice and went on in an 
emphatic tone, — 

“ Yes. She's there, and she's his wife." 

A moment's astonished silence greeted my 
announcement. It was broken by none of our 
party. But there came from the battlemented 
roof above us a low, long, mournful moan that 
made its way straight to the heart, armed with 
its dart of outraged pride and trust betrayed. It 
was not thus, boldly and abruptly, that I should 
have told my news. But I did not know that 
Euphrosyne was still above us, hidden by the 
battlements. We all looked up. The moan was 
not repeated. Presently we heard slow steps re- 
treating with a faltering tread across the roof ; 
and we also went into the house in silence and 
sorrow. For a thing like that gets hold of a 
man; and when he has heard it, it is hard for 
him to sit down and be merry, until the fellow 
that caused it has paid his reckoning. I swore 
then and there that Constantine Stefanopoulos 
should pay his. 


CHAPTER VL 

The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 

There is a matter on my conscience which I 
cannot excuse, but may as well confess. To de- 
ceive a maiden is a very sore thing, so sore that 
it had made us all hot against Constantine ; but it 
may be doubted by a cool mind whether it is 
worse — nay, whether it is not more venial — than 
to contrive the murder of a lawful wife. Poets 
have paid more attention to the first offence 
— maybe they know more about it ; the law 
finds greater employment, on the whole, in re- 
spect to the second. For me, I admit that it 
was not till I found myself stretched on a mat- 
tress in the kitchen, with the idea of getting a 
few hours’ sleep, that it struck me that Constan- 
tine’s wife deserved a share of my concern and 
care. Her grievance against him was at least as 
great as Euphrosyne’s; her peril was far greater. 
For Euphrosyne was his object; Francesca (for 
that appeared from Vlacho’s mode of address to 
be her name) was an obstacle which prevented 
him attaining that object. For myself I should 


9^ Phroso: A Romance# 

have welcomed a cut throat if it came as an ah 
ternative to Constantine’s society ; but probably 
his wife would not agree with me, and the con- 
versation I had heard left me in little doubt that 
her life was not safe. They could not have an 
epidemic, Vlacho had prudently reminded his 
master ; the island fever could not kill Constan- 
tine’s wife and our party all in a day or two. 
Men suspect such an obliging malady, and the 
old Lord had died of it, pat to the happy mo- 
ment, already ! But if the thing could be done, 
if it could be so managed that London, Paris, 
and the Riviera would find nothing strange in 
the disappearance of one Madame Stefanopoulos 
and the appearance of another, why, to a cer- 
tainty, done the thing would be, unless I could 
warn or save the woman in the cottage. But I 
did not see how to do either. So (as I set out to 
confess) I dropped the subject. And when I 
went to sleep, I was thinking, not how to save 
Francesca, but how to console Euphrosyne, — a 
matter really of less urgency, as I should have 
seen had not the echo of that sad little cry still 
filled my ears. 

The news which Hogvardt brought me when I 
rose in the morning and was enjoying a slice of 
cow steak by no means cleared my way. An 
actual attack did not seem imminent, — I fancy 
these fierce islanders were not too fond of our re- 


99 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander# 

volvers, — but the house was, if I may use the 
term, carefully picketed, and that both before 
and behind. Along the road which approached 
it in front there stood sentries at intervals. They 
were stationed just out of range of our only 
effective long-distance weapon, but it was evi- 
dent that egress on that side was barred ; and the 
same was the case on the other. Hogvardt had 
seen men moving in the wood, and had heard 
their challenges to one another repeated at regu- 
lar intervals. We were shut off from the sea; 
we were shut off from the cottage. A blockade 
would reduce us as surely as an attack. I had 
nothing to offer except the release of Euphrosyne. 
And to release Euphrosyne would, in all likeli- 
hood, not save us, while it would leave Constan- 
tine free to play out his relentless game to its 
appointed end. 

I finished my breakfast in some perplexity of 
spirit. Then I went and sat in the hall, expect- 
ing that Euphrosyne would appear from her 
room before long. I was alone, for the rest were 
engaged in various occupations, Hogvardt being 
particularly busy over a large handful of hunt- 
ing-knives which he had gleaned from the walls. 
I did not understand what he wanted with them, 
unless he meant to arm himself in porcupine 
fashion. 

Presently Euphrosyne came, but it was a trans- 


L of C. 


lOO 


Phroso: A Romance# 


formed Euphrosyne. The kilt, knee-breeches, 
and gaiters were gone ; in their place was the 
white linen garment with flowing sleeves and the 
loose jacket over it, the national dress of the 
Greek woman; but Euphrosyne’s was orna- 
mented with a rare profusion of delicate em- 
broidery, and of so fine a texture that it seemed 
rather some delicate, soft, yielding silk. The 
change of attire seemed reflected in her altered 
manner. Defiance was gone, and appeal glistened 
from her eyes as she stood before me. I sprang 
up, but she would not sit. She stood there, and, 
raising her glance to my face, asked simply, — 

Is it true ? '' 

In a business-like way I told her the whole 
story, starting from the every-day scene at home 
in the restaurant, ending with the villainous con- 
versation and the wild chase of the night before. 
When I related how Constantine had called 
Francesca his wife, Euphrosyne started. While 
I lightly sketched my encounter with him and 
Vlacho, she eyed me with a sort of grave curi- 
osity ; and at the end she said, — 

Fm glad you weren't killed." 

It was not an emotional speech, nor delivered 
with any empressement^ but I took it for thanks 
and made the best of it. Then at last she sat 
down and rested her head on her hand ; her 
absent reyerie allowed me to study her closely, 


101 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander# 

and I was struck by a new beauty which the fan- 
tastic boy’s disguise had concealed. Moreover, 
with the doffing of that, she seemed to have put 
off her extreme hostility ; but perhaps the revela- 
tion I had made to her, which showed her the 
victim of an unscrupulous schemer, had more 
to do with her softened air. Yet she had borne 
the story firmly, and a quivering lip was her 
extreme sign of grief or anger. And her first 
question was not of herself. 

‘‘ Do you mean that they will kill this woman ? ” 
she asked. 

I’m afraid it’s not unlikely that something 

will happen to her, unless, of course ” I 

paused, but her quick wit supplied the omission. 

'' Unless,” she said, ‘‘he lets her live now, 
because I am out of his hands?” 

“ Will you stay out of his hands ? ” I asked. 
“ I mean, as long as I can keep you out of them.” 

She looked round with a troubled expression. 

“How can I stay here?” she said in a low 
tone. 

“You will be as safe here now as you were in 
your uncle’s care,” I answered. 

She acknowledged my promise with a move- 
ment of her head ; but a moment later she cried : 

“ But I am not with you — I am with the peo- 
ple ! The island is theirs and mine. It’s not 
yours. I’ll have no part in giving it to you.” 


102 


Phroso t A Romance# 


‘‘ I wasn’t proposing to take pay for my hospi- 
tality,” said I. ‘‘ It’ll be hardly handsome enough 
for that, I’m afraid. But mightn’t we leave the 
question for the moment?” And I described 
briefly to her our present position. 

‘‘ So that,” I concluded, while I maintain 
my claim to the island, I am at present more in- 
terested in keeping a whole skin on myself and 
my friends.” 

‘‘ If you will not give it up, I can do nothing,” 
said she. “ Though they knew Constantine to be 
all you say, yet they would follow him and not 
me if I yielded the island. Indeed they would 
most likely follow him in any case; for the Neo- 
palians like a man to follow, and they like that 
man to be a Stefanopoulos ; so they would shut 
their eyes to much, in order that Constantine 
might marry me and become Lord.” 

She stated all this in a matter-of-fact way, dis- 
closing no great horror of her countrymen’s 
moral standard. The straightforward barbarous- 
ness of it perhaps appealed to her a little ; she 
loathed the man who would rule on those terms, 
but had some toleration for the people who set 
the true dynasty above all else. And she spoke 
of her proposed marriage as though it were a 
natural arrangement. 

“ I shall have to marry him, I expect, in spite 
of everything,” she said. 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 103 

I pushed my chair back violently. My Eng- 
lish respectability was appalled. 

“ Marry him ? ” I cried. ‘‘ Why, he murdered 
the old Lord ! 

That has happened before among the Stefan- 
opouloi,'' said Euphrosyne, with a calmness dam 
gerously near to pride. 

And he proposes to murder his wife,'’ I 
added. 

Perhaps he will get rid of her without that.” 
She paused ; then came the anger I had looked 
for before. Ah, but how dared he swear that 
he had thought of none but me, and loved me 
passionately? He shall pay for that!” Again 
it was injured pride which rang in her voice, as 
in her first cry. It did not sound like love; and 
for that I was glad. The courtship probably had 
been an affair of state rather than of affection. 
I did not ask how Constantine was to be made 
to pay, whether before or after marriage. I was 
struggling between horror and amusement at my 
guest’s point of view. But I take leave to have 
a will of my own, even, sometimes, in matters 
which are not exactly my concern ; and I said 
now, with a composure that rivalled Euphro- 
syne’s, — 

'' It’s out of the question that you should 
marry him. I’m going to get him hanged ; and, 
anyhow, it would be atrocious.” 


104 Phtoso: A Romance* 

She smiled at that ; but then she leaned for* 
ward and asked, — 

‘‘ How long have you provisions for?'' 

‘‘ That's a good retort," I admitted. A few 
days, that’s all. And we can't get out to pro- 
cure any more ; and we can’t go shooting, be- 
cause the wood’s invested with these ruff 1 

beg pardon — with your countrymen." 

Then it seems to me," said Euphrosyne, that 
you and your friends are more likely to be 
hanged." 

Well, on a dispassionate consideration, it did 
seem more likely ; but she need not have said so. 
She went on with an equally discouraging good 
sense, — 

There will be a boat from Rhodes in about a 
month or six weeks. The officer will come then 
to take the tribute ; perhaps the Governor will 
come. But till then nobody will visit the island, 
unless it be a few fishermen from Cyprus." 

‘‘Fishermen? Where do they land? At the 
harbour? " 

“No, my people do not like them; but the 
Governor threatens to send troops if we do not 
let them land. So they come to a little creek at 
the opposite end of the island, on the other side 
of the mountain. Ah, what are you thinking 
of?" 

As Euphrosyne perceived, her words had put 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 105 

a new idea in my mind. If I could reach that 
creek and find the fishermen, and persuade them 
to help me or to carry my party off, that hang- 
ing might happen to the right man after all. 

‘‘You're thinking you can reach them ? " she 
cried. 

“You don’t seem sure that you want me to,” 
I observed. 

“ Oh, how can I tell what I want ? If I help 
you I am betraying the island. If I do not ” 

“You’ll have a death or two at your door, and 
you’ll marry the biggest scoundrel in Europe,” 
said I. 

She hung her head and plucked fretfully at 
the embroidery on the front of her gown. 

“ But anyhow you couldn’t reach them,” she 
said. “You are close prisoners here.” 

That, again, seemed true, so that it put me in 
a very bad temper. Therefore I rose and, leav- 
ing her without much ceremony, strolled into 
the kitchen. Here I found Watkins dressing 
the cow’s head, Hogvardt surrounded by knives, 
and Denny lying on a rug on the floor with a 
small book which he seemed to be reading. He 
looked up with a smile that he considered knowing. 

“ Well, what does the Captive Queen say ? ” 
he asked with levity. 

“ She proposes to marry Constantine,” I an- 
swered, and added quickly to Hogvardt, — 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


io6 

‘^What’s the game with those knives, Hog?'' 

Well, my lord," said Hogvardt, surveying 
his dozen murderous instruments, I thought 
there was no harm in putting an edge on them, 
in case we should find a use for them," and he 
fell to grinding one with great energy. 

I say, Charley," cried Denny, I wonder 
what this yarn's about. I can't construe half of 
it. It's in Greek, and it's something about Neo- 
palia; and there's a lot about a Stefanopoulos." 

Is there? Let's see," — ^and, taking the book, 
I sat down to look at it. It was a slim old book, 
bound in calfskin. The Greek was written in an 
old-fashioned style ; it was verse. I turned to 
the title-page. ‘‘Hullo, this is rather interest- 
ing," I exclaimed. “ It's about the death of old 
Stefanopoulos — the thing they sing that song 
about, you know." 

In fact I had got hold of the poem which One- 
eyed Alexander composed. Its length was about 
three hundred lines, exclusive of the refrain which 
the islanders had chanted, and which was inserted 
six times, occurring at the end of each fifty lines. 
The rest was written in rather barbarous iambics ; 
and the sentiments were quite as barbarous as 
the verse. It told the whole story, and I ran 
rapidly over it, translating here and there for the 
benefit of my companions. The arrival of the 
Baron d’Ezonville recalled our own with curious 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 107 

exactness, except that he came with one servant 
only. He had been taken to the inn as I had, 
but he had never escaped from there, and had 
been turned adrift the morning after his arrival. I 
took more interest in Stefan, and followed eagerly 
the story of how the islanders had come to his 
house and demanded that he should revoke the 
sale. Stefan, however, was obstinate ; it cost the 
lives of four of his assailants before his door was 
forced. Thus far I read, and expected to find 
next an account of a meUe in the hall. But here 
the story took a turn unexpected by me, — one 
that might make the reading of the old poem 
more than a mere pastime. 

“ But when they had broken in,*' sang One- 
eyed Alexander, behold the hall was empty, 
and the house empty ! And they stood amazed. 
But the two cousins of the Lord, who had been 
the hottest in seeking his death, put all the rest 
to the door, and were themselves alone in the 
house ; for the secret was known to them who 
were of the blood of the Stefanopouloi. Unto 
me, the Bard, it is not known. Yet men say 
they went beneath the earth, and there in the 
earth found the Lord. And certain it is they 
slew him, for in a space they came forth to the 
door, bearing his head ; this they showed to the 
people, who answered with a great shout. But 
the cousins went back, barring the door again ; 


io8 Phfoso: A Romance* 

and again, when but a few minutes had passed, 
they came forth, and opened the door, and the 
elder of them, being now by the traitor’s death 
become Lord, bade the people in, and made a 
great feast for them. But the head of Stefan 
none saw again, nor did any see his body ; but 
body and head were gone, whither none know, 
saving the noble blood of the Stefanopouloi ; for 
utterly they disappeared, and the secret was se- 
curely kept.” 

I read this passage aloud, translating as I went. 
At the end Denny drew a breath. 

“Well, if there aren’t ghosts in this house 
there ought to be,” he remarked. “ What the 
deuce did those rascals do with the old gentle- 
man, Charley ? ” 

“ It says they went beneath the earth.” 

“The cellar,” suggested Hogvardt, who had a 
prosaic mind. 

“ But they wouldn’t leave the body in the 
cellar,” I objected ; “ and if, as this fellow says, 
they were only away a few minutes, they couldn’t 
have dug a grave for it. And then it says that 
they ‘ there in the earth found the Lord.’ ” 

“ It would have been more interesting,” said 
Denny, “ if they’d told Alexander a bit more 
about it. However I suppose he consoles him- 
self with his chant again?” 

“ He does. It follows immediately on what 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 109 

Fve read, and so the thing ends/' And I sat 
looking at the little yellow volume. “Where 
did you find it, Denny ? " I asked. 

“ Oh, on a shelf in the corner of the hall, be- 
tween the Iliad and a Life of Bryon, There's 
precious little to read in this house." 

I got up and walked back to the hall. I looked 
round. Euphrosyne was not there. I inspected 
the hall door ; it was still locked on the inside. 
I mounted the stairs and called at the door of 
her room ; when no answer came, I pushed it 
open and took the liberty of glancing round ; she 
was not there. I called again, for I thought she 
might have passed along the way over the hall 
and reached the roof, as she had before. This 
time I called loudly. Silence followed for a mo- 
ment. Then came an answer, in a hurried, rather 
apologetic tone: “Here I am." But then — the 
answer came not from the direction that I ha<l 
expected, but from the hall, and, looking over 
the balustrade, I saw Euphrosyne sitting in the 
arm-chair. 

“ This," said I, going downstairs, “ taken in 
conjunction with this " — and I patted One-eyed 
Alexander's book, which I held in my hand — “ is 
certainly curious and suggestive." 

“ Here I am," said Euphrosyne, with an air 
that added, “ I've not moved. What are you 
shouting for? " 


no 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


Yes, but you weren’t there a minute ago,” I 
observed, reaching the hall and walking across 
to her. 

She looked disturbed and embarrassed. 

Where have you been ? ” I asked. 

** Must I give an account of every movement ? ” 
said she, trying to cover her confusion with a 
show of haughty offence. 

The coincidence was really a remarkable one ; 
it was as hard to account for Euphrosyne’s dis- 
appearance and reappearance as for the vanished 
head and body of old Stefan. I had a convic- 
tion, based on a sudden intuition, that one expla- 
nation must lie at the root of both these curious 
things ; that the secret of which Alexander spoke 
was a secret still hidden, — hidden from my eyes, 
but known to the girl before me, the daughter of 
the Stefanopouloi. 

I won’t ask you where you’ve been, if you 
don’t wish to tell me,” said I carelessly. 

She bowed her head in recognition of my in- 
dulgence. 

But there is one question I should like to 
ask you,” I pursued, if you’ll be so kind as to 
answer it.” 

‘‘ Well, what is it ?” She was still on the de- 
fensive. 

Where was Stefan Stefanopoulos killed, and 
what became of his body ? ” 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* m 

As I put my question I flung One-eyed Alex- 
ander's book open on the table beside her. 

She started visibly, crying, Where did you 
get that ? " 

I told her how Denny had found it, and I 
added, — 

Now, what does ‘ beneath the earth ’ mean ? 
You’re one of the house and you must know.” 

Yes, I know, but I must not tell you. We are 
all bound by the most sacred oath to tell no one.” 

“ Who told you ? ” 

My uncle. The boys of our house are told 
when they are fifteen ; the girls, when they are 
sixteen. No one else knows.” 

Why is that ? ” 

She hesitated, fearing, perhaps, that her an- 
swer itself would tend to betray the secret. 

''I dare tell you nothing,” she said. ‘‘The 
oath binds me ; and it binds every one of my 
kindred to kill me if I break it.” 

“ But you’ve no kindred left except Constan- 
tine,” I objected. 

“ He is enough. He would kill me.” 

“ Sooner than marry you ? ” I suggested rather 
maliciously. 

“ Yes, if I broke the oath.” 

“ Hang the oath ! ” said I impatiently. “ The 
thing might help us. Did they bury Stefan 
somewhere under the house? ” 


II2 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


‘‘No, he was not buried,’' she answered. 

“ Then they brought him up and got rid of 
his body when the islanders had gone ? ” 

“You must think what you will.” 

“ I’ll find it out,” said 1. “ If I pull the house 

down. I’ll find it. Is it a secret door or ? ” 

She had coloured at the question. I put the 
latter part in a low eager voice, for hope had 
come to me. 

“ Is it a way out ? ” I asked, leaning over to 
her. 

She sat mute, but irresolute, embarrassed and 
fretful. 

“Heavens,” I cried impatiently, “ it may mean 
life or death to all of us, and you boggle over 
your oath ! ” 

My rude impatience met with a rebuke that it 
perhaps deserved. With a glance of the utmost 
scorn, Euphrosyne asked coldly, — 

“ What are the lives of all of you to me?” 

“True, I forgot,” said I, with a bitter politeness. 
“ I beg your pardon. I did you all the service I 

could last night, and now 1 and my friends 

may as well die as live ! But, by God, I’ll pull 
this place to ruins, but I’ll find your secret.” 

I was walking up and down now in a state of 
some excitement. My brain was fired with the 
thought of stealing a march on Constantine 
through the discovery of his own family secret. 



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The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander# 113 

Suddenly Euphrosyne gave a little soft clap 
with her hands. It was over in a minute, and 
she sat blushing, confused, trying to look as if 
she had not moved at all. 

“ What did you do that for ? I asked, stop- 
ping in front of her. 

‘‘Nothing,'' said Euphrosyne. 

“Oh, I don't believe that," said I. 

She looked at me. “ I didn't mean to do it," 
she said. “ But can't you guess why ? " 

“ There's too much guessing to be done here," 
said I impatiently ; and I started walking again. 
But presently I heard a voice say softly, and in 
a tone that seemed to address nobody in partic- 
ular — me least of all, — 

“We Neopalians like a man who can be angry, 
and I began to think you never would be." 

“ I am not the least angry," said I with great 
indignation. I hate being told that I am angry 
when I am merely showing firmness. 

Now at this protest of mine Euphrosyne saw 
fit to laugh — the most hearty laugh she had 
given since I had known her. The mirthfulness 
of it undermined my wrath. I stood still oppo- 
site her, bitting the end of my moustache. 

“You may laugh," said I, “but I'm not an- 
gry ; and I shall pull this house down, or dig it 
up, in cold blood, — in perfectly cold blood." 

“You are angry," said Euphrosyne^ “ and you 


114 


Phfosoj A Romance# 


say you’re not. You are like my father. He 
would stamp his foot furiously like that, and say, 
^ I am not angry, I am not angry, Phroso.’ ” 
Phroso! I had forgotton that diminutive of 
my guest’s classical name. It rather pleased me, 
and I repeated gently after her, Phroso, 
Phroso ! ” and I’m afraid I eyed the little foot 
that had stamped so bravely. 

He always called me Phroso. Oh, I wish he 

were alive ! Then Constantine ” 

Since he isn’t,” said I, sitting on the table by 
Phroso (I must write it, it’s a deal shorter) — by 
Phroso’s elbow, ‘‘ since he isn’t. I’ll look after 
Constantine. It would be a pity to spoil the 
house, wouldn’t it ? ” 

‘‘ I’ve sworn,” said Phroso. 

Circumstances alter oaths,” said I, bending 
till I was very near Phroso’s ear. 

Ah,” said Phroso reproachfully, that’s what 
lovers say when they find another more beautiful 
than their old love.” 

I shot away from Phroso’s ear with a sudden 
backward start. Her remark somehow came 
home to me with a very remarkable force. I got 
off the table, and stood opposite to her in an 
awkward and stiff attitude. 

‘‘ I am compelled to ask you, for the last time, 
if you will tell me the secret ? ” said I in the 
coldest of tones. 


The Poem of One-Eyed Alexander* 115 

She looked up with surprise : my altered man- 
ner may well have amazed her. She did not 
know the reason of it. 

‘‘You asked me kindly and — and pleasantly, 
and I would not. Now you ask me as if you 
threatened,” she said. “ Is it likely I should tell 
you now? ” 

Well, I was angry with myself and with her 
because she had made me angry with myself ; 
and the next minute I became furiously angry 
with Denny, whom I found standing in the door- 
way that led to the kitchen, with a smile of 
intense amusement on his face. 

“ What are you grinning at ? ” I demanded 
fiercely. 

“ Oh, nothing,” said Denny, and his face 
strove to assume a prudent gravity. 

“ Bring a pickaxe,” said I. 

Denny's eyes wandered towards Phroso. “ Is 
she as annoying as that?” he seemed to ask. 
“ A pickaxe ? ” he repeated, in surprised tones. 

“Yes, two pickaxes! I'm going to have this 
floor up, and see if I can find out the great Ste- 
fanopoulos secret.” I spoke with an accent of 
intense scorn. * 

Again Phroso laughed ; her hands beat very 
softly against one another. Heavens, what did 
she do that for, when Denny was there, watch- 
ing everything with those shrewd eyes of his ? 


ii6 Phfoso: A Romance* 

The pickaxes ! I roared. 

Denny turned and fled ; a moment elapsed. I 
did not know what to do, how to look at Phroso, 
or how not to look at her. I took refuge in 
flight. I rushed into the kitchen, on pretence of 
aiding or hastening Denny's search. I found 
him taking up an old pick that stood near the 
door leading to the compound. I seized it from 
his hand. 

Confound you ! ” I cried, for Denny laughed 
openly at me; and I rushed back to the hall. 
But on the threshold I paused, and said what I 
will not write. 

For, though there came from somewhere the 
ripple of a mirthful laugh, the hall was empty ! 
Phroso was gone ! I flung the pickaxe down 
with a clatter on the boards, and exclaimed in 
my haste, — 

“ I wish to heaven Fd never bought the 
island ! ” 

But I did not really mean that. 


CHAPTER VIL 
The Secret of the StefanopouIoL 

Was this a pantomime? For a moment I 
declared angrily that it was no better ; but the 
next instant changed the current of my feelings, 
transforming irritation into alarm and perplexity 
into the strongest excitement. For Phroso’s 
laugh ended — ended as a laugh ends that is sud- 
denly cut short in its career of mirth — and there 
was a second of absolute stillness. Then from 
the front of the house, and from the back, came 
the sharp sound of shots, — three in rapid succes- 
sion in front, four behind. Denny rushed out 
from the kitchen, rifle in hand. 

“ They're at us on both sides ! " he cried, leap- 
ing to his perch at the window and cautiously 
peering round. ‘‘ Hogvardt and Watkins are 
ready at the back; they're firing from the 
wood," he went on. Then he fired. Missed, 
confound it !" he muttered. ‘‘Well, they don't 
come any nearer. I’ll see to that." 

Denny was a sure defence in front. I turned 
towards the kitchen, for more shots came from 


ii8 Phfoso: A Romance* 

that direction, and although it was difficult to do 
worse than harass us from there, — our perpen- 
dicular bank of rock being a difficult obstacle to 
pass in face of revolver-fire, — I wanted to see 
that all was well and to make the best disposition 
against this unexpected onset. Yet I did not 
reach the kitchen ; half-way to the door which 
led to it I was arrested by a cry of distress. 
Phroso’s laugh had gone, but the voice was still 
hers. Help ! '' she cried, Help ! '' Then 
came a chuckle from Denny at the window, and 
a triumphant ‘‘Winged him, by Jove!"' And 
then from Phroso again, “Help!’* — and at last 
an enlightening word, “ Help 1 Under the stair- 
case! Help!” 

At this summons I left my friends to sustain 
the attack, or the feigned attack ; for I began to 
suspect that it was no more than a diversion, and 
that the real centre of operations was “ under 
the staircase ” ; thither I ran. The stairs rose 
from the centre of the right side of the hall, and 
led up to the gallery; they rose steeply, and a 
man could stand upright up to within four feet 
of the spot where the staircase sprang from the 
level floor. I was there now ; and under me I 
heard no longer voices, but a kind of scuffle. 
The pick was in my hand, and I struck savagely 
again and again at the board ; for I did not doubt 
now that there was a trap-door, and I was in no 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 119 

mind to spend my time seeking for its cunning 
machinery. And yet, where knowledge failed, 
chance came to my help ; at the fifth or sixth 
blow I must have happened on the spring, for 
the boards yawned, leaving a space of about 
three inches. Dropping the pick, I fell on my 
knees and seized the edge nearest me. With all 
my strength I tugged and pulled. My violence 
was of no avail, the boards moved no more. Im- 
patient, yet sobered, I sought eagerly for the 
spring which my pick had found. Ah, here it 
was ! It answered now to a touch as light as 
Phroso’s own. At the slightest pressure the 
boards rolled away, seeming to curl themselves 
up under the base of the staircase ; and there 
was revealed to me an aperture four feet long by 
three broad ; beneath lay a flight of stone steps. 
I seized my pick again, and took a step down- 
wards. I heard nothing except the noise of re- 
treating feet. I went on. Down six steps I 
went, then the steps ended, and I was on an 
incline. At that moment I heard again, only a 
few yards from me, Help ! I sprang forward. 
A loud curse rang out, and a shot whistled by 
me. The open trap-door gave a glimmer of light. 
I was in a narrow passage, and a man was coming 
at me. I did not know where Phroso was, but I 
took the risk. I fired straight at him, having 
shifted my pick to the left hand. The aim was 


120 


Phtoso: A Romance# 


true; he fell prone on his face before me. I 
jumped on and over his body, and ran along the 
dark passage; for I still heard retreating steps. 
But then came a voice I knew, the voice of 
Vlacho the innkeeper. “ Then stay where you 
are, curse you ! '' he cried savagely. There was 
a thud, as though some one fell heavily to the 
ground, a cry of pain, and then the rapid running 
of feet that fled now at full pace and unencum- 
bered. Vlacho the innkeeper had heard my shot, 
and had no stomach for fighting in that rat-run, 
with a girl in his arms to boot ! And I, pursu- 
ing, was brought up short by the body of Phroso, 
which lay, white and plain to see, across the nar- 
row passage. 

“ Are you hurt ? I cried eagerly. 

‘‘ He flung me down violently,'' she answered. 

But I'm not hurt otherwise." 

“Then I'll go after him," I cried. 

“No, no, you mustn't. You don't know the 
way, you don't know the dangers ; there may be 
more of them at the other end." 

“ True," said I. “ What happened ? " 

“Why, I came down to hide from you, you 
know. But directly I reached the foot of the 
steps Vlacho seized me. He was crouching there 
with Spiro — you know Spiro; And they said, 
* Ah, she has saved us the trouble ! ' and began 
to drag me away. But I would not go, and I 


121 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 

called to you. I twisted my feet round Vlacho, 
so that he couldn't go fast ; then he told Spiro 
to catch hold of me, and they were just carrying 
me off when you came. Vlacho kept hold of me 
while Spiro went to meet you and " 

‘‘ It seems," I interrupted, that Constantine 
was less scrupulous about that oath than you 
were. Or how did Vlacho and Spiro come here ? " 

‘‘Yes, he must have told them," she admitted 
reluctantly. 

“ Well, come along, come back ; I'm wanted," 
said I ; and (without asking leave, I fear) I caught 
her up in my arms and began to run back. I 
jumped again over Spiro — friend Spiro had not 
moved — and regained the hall. 

“ Stay there, under the stairs ; you’re sheltered 
there," I said hastily to Phroso. Then I called 
to Denny, “ What cheer, Denny ? " Denny 
turned round with a radiant smile. I don’t think 
he had even noticed my absence. 

“ Prime," said he. “ This is a rare gun of old 
Constantine's ; it carries a good thirty yards 
farther than any they've got, and I can pick 'em 
off before they get dangerous. I've got one and 
winged another, and the rest have retired a little 
way to talk it over." 

Seeing that things were all right in that quar- 
ter I ran into the kitchen. It was well that I did 
so. We were indeed in no danger; from that 


122 Phtoso; A Romance* 

side, at all events, [^the attack was evidently no 
more than a feint. There was desultory firing 
from a safe distance in the wood. I reckoned 
there must be four or five men hidden behind 
trees and emerging every now and then to pay 
us a compliment. But they had not attempted a 
rush. The mischief was quite different, being 
just this, that Watkins, who was not well in- 
structed in the range of firearms, was cheerfully 
emptying his revolver into space, and wasting 
our precious cartridges at the rate of about two 
a minute. He was so magnificently happy that 
it went to my heart to stop him, but I was com- 
pelled to seize his arm and command him very 
peremptorily to wait till there was something to 
fire at. 

‘‘ I thought rd show them that we were ready 
for them, my lord,’' said he apologetically, 

I turned impatiently to Hogvardt. 

Why did you let him make a fool of himself 
like that ? ” I asked. 

He would miss, anyhow, wherever the men 
were,” observed Hogvardt philosophically. 

And,” he continued, I was busy myself.” 

“ What were you doing ? ” I asked in a scorn- 
ful tone. 

Hogvardt made no answer in words ; but he 
pointed proudly to the table. There I saw a row 
of five long and strong saplings ; to the head of 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 123 

each of these most serviceable lances there was 
bound strongly, with thick wire wound round 
again and again, a long, keen, bright knife. 

I think these may be useful,'' said Hogvardt, 
rubbing his hands, and rising from his seat with 
the sigh of a man who had done a good morn- 
ing’s work. 

The cartridges would have been more useful 
still,” said I severely. 

Yes,” he admitted, if you would have taken 
them away from Watkins. But you know you 
wouldn't, my lord. You'd be afraid of hurting 
his feelings. So he might just as well amuse 
himself while I made the lances.” 

I have known Hogvardt for a long while, and 
I never argue with him. The mischief was done ; 
the cartridges were gone ; we had the lances ; it 
was no use wasting more words over it. I 
shrugged my shoulders. 

Your lordship will find the lances very use- 
ful,'’ said Hogvardt, fingering one of them most 
lovingly. 

The attack was dying away now in both front 
and rear. My impression was amply confirmed. 
It had been no more than a device for occupying 
our attention while those two daring rascals, 
Vlacho and Spiro, armed with the knowledge of 
the secret way, made a sudden dash upon us, 
either in the hope of getting a shot at our backs 


124 Phfoso: A Romance# 

and finding shelter again before we could retali- 
ate, or with the design of carrying off Phroso. 
Her jest had forestalled the former idea, if it had 
been in their minds, and they had then endea- 
voured to carry out the latter. Indeed I found 
afterwards that it was the latter on which Con- 
stantine laid most stress, for a deputation of the 
islanders had come to him, proposing that he 
should make terms with me as a means of releas- 
ing their Lady. Now, since last night, Constan- 
tine, for reasons which he could not disclose to 
the deputation, was absolutely precluded from 
treating with me ; he was therefore driven to 
make an attempt to get Phroso out of my hands, 
in order to satisfy her people. This enterprise 
I had happily frustrated for the moment. But 
my mind was far from easy. Provisions would 
soon begone; ammunition was scanty; against 
an attack by day our strong position, aided by 
Denny’s coolness and marksmanship, seemed to 
protect us very effectually; but I could feel no 
confidence as to the result of a grand assault 
under the protecting shadow of night. And now 
that Constantine’s hand was being forced by 
the islanders’ anxiety for Phroso, I was afraid 
that he would not wait long before attempting 
a decisive stroke. 

‘‘ I wish we were well out of it,” said I 
despondently, as I wiped my brow. 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 

All was quiet. Watkins appeared with bread, 
cheese, and wine. 

‘‘Your lordship would not wish to use the cow 
at luncheon ? '' he asked, as he passed me on his 
way to the hall. 

“ Certainly not, Watkins,*' I answered, smiling. 
“We must save the cow.’* 

“ There is still a goat, but she is a poor thin 
creature, my lord.” 

“We shall come to her in time, Watkins,” said 

I. 

But if I were depressed, the other three were 
very merry over their meal. Danger was an idea 
which found no hospitality in Denny’s brain; 
Hogvardt was as cool a hand as the world held; 
Watkins could not believe that Providence would 
deal unkindly with a man of my rank. They 
toasted our recent success, and listened with en- 
grossed interest to my account of the secret of 
the Stefanopouloi. Phroso sat a little apart, say- 
ing nothing, but at last I turned to her and asked : 
“ Where does the passage lead to? ” 

She answered readily enough ; the secret was 
out through Constantine’s fault, not hers, and 
the seal was removed from her lips. 

“ If you follow it to the end, it comes out in 
a little cave in the rocks on the sea-shore, near 
the creek where the Cypriote fishermen come.” 

“ Ah,” I cried, “ it might help us to get there ! ” 


126 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


She shook her head, answering, — 

Constantine is sure to have that end strongly 
guarded now, because he knows that you have 
the secret/' 

‘‘We might force our way/' 

“ There is no room for more than one man to 
go at a time ; and besides " She paused. 

“ Well, what besides ? " I asked. 

“ It would be certain death to try to go in the 
face of an enemy," she answered. 

Denny broke in at this point. 

“ By the way, what of the fellow you shot ? 
Are we going to leave him there, or must we get 
him up ? " 

Spiro had been in my mind ; and now I said to 
Phroso, — 

“ What did they do with the body of Stefan 
Stefanopoulos? There was not time for them 
to have taken it to the end of the way, was 
there ? " 

“No, they didn't take it to the end of the 
way," said she. “ I will show you if you like. 
Bring a torch ; you must keep behind me, and 
right in the middle of the path." 

I accepted her invitation eagerly, telling Denny 
to keep guard. He was very anxious to accom- 
pany us, but another and more serious attack 
might be in store, and I would not trust the 
house to Hogvardt and Watkins alone. So I 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 127 

took a lantern in lieu of a torch and prepared to 
follow. At the last moment Hogvardt thrust 
into my hand one of his lances. 

“It will very likely be useful/' said he. “A 
thing like that is always useful." 

I would not disappoint him, and I took the 
lance. Phroso signed to me to give her the 
lantern, and preceded me down the flight of 
stairs. 

“ We shall be in earshot of the hall ? " I asked. 

“ Yes, for as far as we are going," she answered, 
and she led the way into the passage. I prayed 
her to let me go first, for it was just possible 
that some of Constantine's ruffians might still 
be there. 

“ I don't think so," she said. “ He would tell 
as few as possible. You see, we have always 
kept the secret from the islanders. I think that, 
if you had not killed Spiro, he would not have 
lived long after knowing it." 

“ The deuce ! " I exclaimed. “ And Vlacho? " 

“ Oh, I don't know. Constantine is very fond 

of Vlacho. Still, perhaps, some day " The 

unfinished sentence was expressive enough. 

“ What use was the secret ? " I asked, as we 
groped our way slowly along and edged by the 
body of Spiro, which lay, — six feet of dead clay, 
— in the path. 

“ In the first place, we could escape by it,'* 


128 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


she answered, ‘‘ if any tumult arose in the island. 
That was what Stefan tried to do, and would 
have done, had not his own kindred been against 
him, and overtaken him here in the passage/' 

‘‘And in the second place? " I asked. 

Phroso stopped, turned round, and faced me. 

“ In the second place," she said, “ if any one 
of the islanders became very powerful — too pow- 
erful, you know — then the ruling Lord would 
show him great favour ; and, as a crowning mark 
of his confidence, he would bid him come by 
night and learn the great secret ; and they two 
would come together down this passage. But 
the Lord would return alone." 

“ And the other? " 

“The body of the other would be found two, 
three, four days, or a week later, tossing on the 
shores of the island," answered Phroso. “ For 
look ! " and she held the lantern high above her 
head, so that its light projected in front of us, 
and I could see fifteen or twenty yards ahead. 

“ When they reached here, — Stefanopoulos 
and the other," — she went on, “ Stefanopoulos 
would stumble and feign to twist his foot, and he 
would pray the other to let him lean a little on 
his shoulder. Thus they would go on, the other 
a pace in front, the Lord leaning on his shoulder ; 
and the Lord would hold the torch, but he 
would not hold it up, as I hold the lantern, but 


129 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 

down to the ground, so that it should light no 
more than a pace or two ahead. And when 
they came there — do you see, my lord — there ? ” 
I see,” said I ; and I believe I shivered a bit. 

‘‘ When they came there the torch would sud- 
denly show the change, so suddenly that the 
other would start, and be, for an instant, alarmed, 
and turn his head round to the Lord to ask what 
it meant.” 

Phroso paused in her recital of the savage, sim- 
ple, sufficient old trick. 

Yes ? ” said I. And at that moment ? ” 

“ The Lord's hand on his shoulder,” she an- 
swered, which had rested lightly before, would 
grow heavy as lead, and with a great sudden im- 
pulse the other would be hurled forward, and 

the Lord would be alone again with the 

secret, and alone the holder of power in Neo- 
palia.” 

This was certainly a pretty secret of empire, 
and none the less although the empire it pro- 
tected was but nine miles long and five broad. 
I took the lantern from Phroso’s hand, saying, 
‘‘ Let's have a look.” 

I stepped a pace or two forward, prodding the 
ground with Hogvardt’s lance before I moved 
my feet : and thus I came to the spot where the 
Stefanopoulos used, with a sudden great impulse, 
to propel his enemy down. For here the rocks, 


130 


Phroso: A Romance* 


which hitherto had narrowly edged and confined 
the path, bayed out on either side. The path 
ran on, a flat rock track about a couple of feet 
wide, forming the top of an upstanding cliff ; 
but on either side there was an interval of seven 
or eight feet between the path and the walls of 
rock, and the path was unfenced. Even had the 
Stefanopoulos held his hand, and given no 
treacherous impulse, it would have needed a cool- 
headed man to walk that path by the dim glim- 
mer of a torch. For, kneeling down and peering 
over the side, I saw; below me, some seventy feet 
down, as I judged, the dark gleam of water, and 
I heard the low moan of its wash. And Phroso 
said, — 

** If the man escaped the sharp rocks he would 
fall into the water ; and then if he could not 
swim he would sink at once ; but if he could 
swim he would swim round, and round, and round, 
like a fish in a bowl, till he grew weary, unless he 
chanced to find the only opening ; and if he found 
that and passed through, he would come to a 
rapid, where the water runs swiftly, and he would 
be dashed on the rocks. Only by a miracle could 
he escape death by one or other of these ways. 
So I was told when I was of age to know the 
secret. And it is certain that no man who fell 
into the water has escaped alive, although their 
bodies came out.’’ 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 13 1 

^‘Did Stefan’s body come out?” I asked, 
peering at the dark water with a fascinated gaze. 

“No, because they tied weights to it before 
they threw it down, and so with the head. Ste- 
fan is there at the bottom. Perhaps another 
Stefanopoulos is there also : for his body was 
never found. He was caught by the man he 
threw down, and the two fell together.” 

“ Well, I’m glad of it,” said I with emphasis, as 
I rose to my feet. “ I wish the same thing had 
always happened.” 

“ Then,” remarked Phroso with a smile, “ I 
should not be here to tell you about it.” 

“ Hum,” said I. “ At all events I wish it had 
generally happened. For a more villainous con- 
trivance I never heard of in all my life. We 
English are not accustomed to this sort of thing.” 

Phroso looked at me for a moment with a 
strange expression of eagerness, hesitation, and 
fear. Then she suddenly put out her hand and 
laid it on my arm. 

“I will not go back to my cousin who has 

wronged me, if if I may stay with you,” she 

said. 

“ If you may stay ! ” I exclaimed, with a ner- 
vous laugh. 

“ But will you protect me ? Will you stand 
by me? Will you swear not to leave me here 
alone on the island ? If you will, I will tell you 


132 


Phroso: A Romance^ 


another thing — a thing that would certainly bring 
me death if it were known I had told/' 

Whether you tell me, or whether you don't," 
said I, ril do what you ask." 

‘‘ Then you are not the first Englishman who 
has been here. Seventy years ago there came 
an Englishman here, a daring man, a lover of 
our people, and a friend of the great Byron. 
Orestes Stefanopoulos, who ruled here then, 
loved him very much, and brought him here, and 
showed him the path and the water under it. 
And he, the Englishman, came next day with a 
rope, and fixed the rope at the top, and let him- 
self down. Somehow, I do not know how, he 
came safe out to the sea, past the rocks and the 
rapids. But, alas, he boasted of it ! Thus, when 
the thing became known, all the family came to 
Orestes and asked him what he had done. And 
he said, — 

“ ^ Sup with me this night, and I will tell you.' 
For he saw that what he had done was known. 

So they all supped together, and Orestes told 
them what he had done, and how he did it for 
love of the Englishman. They said nothing, but 
looked sad ; for they loved Orestes. But he did 
not wait for them to kill him, as they were bound 
to do ; but he took a great flagon of wine, and 
poured into it the contents of a small flask. 
And his kindred said : ‘ Well done. Lord Ores- 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloh 133 

tes ! ’ And they all rose to their feet, and drank 
to him. And he drained the flagon to their 
good fortune, and went and lay down on his bed, 
and turned his face to the wall, and died.’' 

I paid less attention to this new episode in the 
family history of the Stefanopouloi than it per- 
haps deserved : my thoughts were with the Eng- 
lishman, not with his too generous friend. Yet 
the thing was handsomely done — on both sides 
handsomely done. 

If the Englishman got out ! ” I cried, gazing 
at Phroso’s face. 

‘‘Yes, I mean that,” said she simply. “But it 
must be dangerous.” 

“ It’s not exactly safe where we are,” I said, 
smiling. “And Constantine will be guarding the 
proper path. By Jove, we’ll try it ! ” 

“But I must come with you. For if you go 
that way and escape, Constantine will kill me.” 

“You’ve just as good a right to kill Constan- 
tine.” 

“Still he will kill me. You’ll take me with 
you ? ” 

“ To be sure I will,” said I. 

Now, when a man pledges his word, he ought, 
to my thinking, to look straight and honestly in 
the eyes of the woman to whom he is promising. 
Yet I did not look into Phroso’s eyes, but stared 
awkwardly over her head at the walls of rock. 


134 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


Then, without any more words, we turned back 
and went towards the secret door. But I 
stopped at Spiro’s body, and said to Phroso, — 
Will you send Denny to me?” 

She went, and when Denny came we took 
Spiro’s body and carried it to where the walls 
bayed, and we flung it down into the dark water 
below. And I told Denny of the Englishman 
who had come alive through the perils of the 
hidden chasm. He listened with eager atten- 
tion, nodding his head at every point of the 
story. 

There lies our road, Denny,” said I, pointing 
with my finger. ‘‘We’ll go along it to-night.” 

Denny looked down, shook his head, and 
smiled. 

“ And the girl ? ” he asked suddenly. 

“ She comes too,” said I. 

We walked back together, Denny being un- 
usually silent and serious. I thought that even 
his audacious courage was a little dashed by the 
sight and the associations of that grim place, so 
I said, — 

“Cheer up. If that other fellow got through 
the rocks, we can.” 

“ Oh, hang the rocks ! ” said Denny scorn- 
fully. “ I wasn’t thinking of them.” 

“ Then what are you so glum about ? ” 

“ I was wondering,” said Denny, freeing himself 


The Secret of the Stefanopouloi# 135 

from my arm, ^^how Beatrice Hipgrave would 
get on with Euphrosyne/' 

I looked at Denny. I tried to feel angry, or 
even, if I failed in that, to appear angry. But it 
was no use. Denny was imperturbable. I took 
his arm again. 

‘‘Thanks, old man,'’ said I. “Til remember.” 

For when I considered the very emphatic as- 
sertions which I had made to Denny before we 
left England, I could not honestly deny that he 
was justified in his little reminder. 


CHAPTER VHL 
A Knife at a Rope* 

Some modern thinkers, I believe — or perhaps, 
to be quite safe, I had better say some modern 
talkers — profess to estimate the value of life by 
reference to the number of distinct sensations 
which it enables them to experience. Judged 
by a similar standard, my island had been, up to 
the present time, a brilliant success ; it was cer- 
tainly fulfilling the function, which Mrs. Kennett 
Hipgrave had appropriated to it, of whiling 
away the time that must elapse before my mar- 
riage with her daughter and providing occupa- 
tion for my thoughts during this weary interval. 
The difficulty was that the island seemed disin- 
clined to restrict itself to this modest sphere of 
usefulness ; it threatened to monopolise me, and 
to leave very little of me or my friends by the 
time that it had finished with us. For, although 
we maintained our cheerfulness, our position was 
not encouraging. Had matters been anything 
short of desperate above ground it would have 
been madness to plunge into that watery hole. 


137 


A Knife at a Rope* 

whose egress was unknown to us, and to take 
such a step on the off-chance of finding at the 
other end the Cypriote fishermen, and of obtain- 
ing from them either an alliance, or, if that failed, 
the means of flight. Yet we none of us doubted 
that to take the plunge was the wiser course. I 
did not believe in the extreme peril of the pas- 
sage, for, on further questioning, Phroso told us 
that the Englishman had come through, not only 
alive and well, but also dry. Therefore there 
was a path, and along a path that one man can 
go four men can go ; and Phroso, again attired, 
at my suggestion, in her serviceable boy’s suit, 
was the equal of any of us. So we left consider- 
ing whether, and fell to the more profitable work 
of asking how, to go. Hogvardt and Watkins 
went off at once to the point of departure, armed 
with a pick, a mallet, some stout pegs, and a long 
length of rope. All save the last were ready on 
the premises, and that last formed always part of 
Hogvardt’s own equipment ; he wore it round 
his waist, and, I believe, slept in it, like a me- 
diaeval ascetic. Meanwhile Denny and I kept 
watch, and Phroso, who seemed out of humour, 
disappeared into her own room. 

Our idea was to reach the other end of the 
journey somewhere about eight or nine o’clock 
in the evening. Phroso told us that this hour 
was the most favourable for finding the fishermen ; 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


they would then be taking a meal before launch- 
ing their boats for the fishing-grounds. Three 
hours seemed ample time to allow for the jour- 
ney, for the way could hardly, however rich it 
were in windings, be more than three or four 
miles long. We determined, therefore, to start 
at five. At four Hogvardt and Watkins returned 
from the underground passage ; they had driven 
three stout pegs into excavations in the rocky 
path, and built them in securely with stones and 
earth. The rope was tied fast and firm round 
the pegs, and the moistness of its end showed its 
length to be sufficient. I wished to descend 
first, but I was at once overruled ; Denny was to 
lead, Watkins was to follow; then came Hog- 
vardt, then Phroso, and lastly myself. We ar- 
ranged all this as we ate a good meal ; then each 
man stowed away a portion of goat — the goat 
had died the death that morning — and tied a flask 
of wine about him. It was a quarter to five, and 
Denny rose to his feet, flinging away his cigarette. 

“ That’s my last ! ” said he, regretfully regard- 
ing his empty case. 

His words sounded ominous, but the spirit of 
action was on us, and we would not be discouraged. 
I went to the hall door and fired a shot, and 
then did the like at the back. Having thus 
spent two cartridges on advertising our presence 
to the pickets, we made without delay for the 


A Knife at a Rope^ 


139 


passage, and with my own hand I closed the 
door behind us. The secret of the Stefanopouloi 
would thus be hidden from profane eyes in the 
very likely event of the islanders finding their way 
into the house in the course of the next few hours, 

I persuaded Phroso to sit down some little way 
from the chasm and wait till we were ready for 
her ; we four went on. Denny was a delightful 
boy to deal with on such occasions. He wasted 
no time in preliminaries. He gave one hard pull 
at the rope ; it stood the test : he cast a rapid 
eye over the wedges; they were strong and 
strongly imbedded in the rock. He laid hold of 
the rope. 

Don't come after me till I shout," said he, 
and he was over the side. The lantern showed 
me his descending figure, while Hogvardt and 
Watkins held the rope, ready to haul him up in 
case of need. There was one moment of sus- 
pense ; then his voice came, distant and cavernous. 

All right ! There's a broad ledge — a foot and 
a half broad — twenty feet above the water, and I 
can see a glimmer of light that looks like the 
way out." 

‘‘ This is almost disappointingly simple," said I. 

^ ‘‘ Would your lordship desire me to go next? " 

asked Watkins. 

‘‘Yes, fire away, Watkins," said I, now in high 
good humour. 


<4^ Phroso: A Romance* 

Stand from under, sir,'' called Watkins to 
Denny, and over he went. 

A shout announced his safe arrival. I laid 
down the lantern and took hold of the rope. 

I must hang on to you. Hog," said I. ‘‘You 
carry flesh, you see." 

Hogvardt was calm, smiling, and leisurely. 

“ When I'm down, my lord," he said, “ I'll 
stand ready to catch the young lady. Give me a 
call before you start her off." 

“ All right," I answered. “ I'll go and fetch 
her directly." 

Over went old Hogvardt. He groaned once ; 
I suppose he grazed against the wall ; but he de- 
scended with perfect safety. Denny called : 
“ Now we're ready for her, Charley. Lower 
away ! " And I, turning, began to walk back to 
where I had left Phroso. 

My island — I can hardly resist personifying it 
in the image of some charming girl, full of tricks 
and surprises, yet all the while enchanting — had 
now behaved well for two hours. The limit of 
its endurance seemed to be reached. In another 
five minutes Phroso and I would have been safely 
down the rope, and the party re-united at the 
bottom, with a fair hope of carrying out prosper- 
ously at least the first part of the enterprise. 
But it was not to be. My eyes had grown ac- 
customed to the gloom, and when I went back I 


A Knife at a Ropci 


141 

left the lantern standing by the rope. Suddenly, 
when I was still a few yards from Phroso, I heard 
a curious noise, a sort of shuffling sound rather 
like the noise made by a rug or carpet drawn 
along the floor. I stood still and listened, turn- 
ing my head round to the chasm. The noise 
continued for a minute. I took a step in the di- 
rection of it. Then I seemed to see a curious 
thing. The lantern appeared to get up, raise 
itself a foot or so in the air, keeping its light 
towards me, and throw itself over the chasm ! 
At the same instant there was a rasp. Heavens, 
it was a knife on the rope ! A cry came from 
far down in the chasm. I darted forward. I 
rushed to where the walls bayed and the chasm 
opened. The shuffling sound had begun again ; 
and in the middle of the isolated path, I saw a 
dark object. It must be the figure of a man, a 
man who had watched our proceedings, unob- 
served by us, and seized this chance of separat- 
ing our party. For a moment — a fatal moment — 
I stood aghast, doing nothing. Then I drew my 
revolver and fired once — twice — thrice. The 
bullets whistled along the path, but the dark 
figure was no longer to be seen there. But in an 
instant there came an answering shot from across 
the bridge of rock. Denny shouted wildly to 
me from below. I fired again ; there was a 
groan, but two shots flashed at the very same 


142 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


moment. There were two men there, perhaps 
more. I stood again for a moment undecided ; 
but I could do no good where I was. I turned 
and ran fairly and fast. “ Come, come,” I cried, 
when I reached Phroso. ‘‘Come back, come 
back ! They’ve cut the rope and they’ll be on 
us directly.” 

In spite of her amazement she rose as I bade 
her. We heard feet running along the passage. 
They would be across the bridge now. Would 
they stop and fire down the chasm No, they 
were coming on. We also went on; a touch of 
Phroso’s practised fingers opened the door for 
us; I turned, and in wrath gave the pursuers 
one more shot. Then I ran up the stairs and 
shut the door behind us. We were in the hall 
again — but Phroso and I alone. 

A hurried story told her all that had happened. 
Her breath came quick, and her cheek flushed. 

“ The cowards ! ” she said. “ They dared not 
attack us when we were all together ! ” 

“ They will attack us before very long now,” 
said I, “ and we can’t possibly hold the house 
against them. Why, they may open that trap- 
door any moment.” 

Phroso stepped quickly towards it, and, stoop- 
ing for an instant, examined it. “Yes,” she 
said, “ they may. I can’t fasten it. You spoiled 
the fastening with your pick.” 


A Knife at a Rope* 


143 


Hearing this, I stepped close up to the door, 
reloading my revolver as I went, and I called 
out, The first man who looks out is a dead 
man.” 

No sound came from below. Either they 
were too hurt to attempt the attack, or, more 
probably, they preferred the safer and surer way 
of surrounding and overwhelming us by numbers 
from outside. Indeed we were at our last gasp 
now ; I flung myself despondently into a chair ; 
but I kept my finger on my weapon and my eye 
on the trap-door. 

They cannot get back — our friends — and we 
cannot get to them,” said Phroso. 

No,” I replied. Her simple statement was 
terribly true. 

‘‘And we cannot stay here! ” she pursued. 

“They’ll be at us in an hour or two at most. 
I’ll warrant. Those fellows will carry back the 
news that we are alone here.” 

“And if they come ? ” she said, fixing her eyes 
on me. 

“They won’t hurt you, will they?” 

“ I don’t know what Constantine would do ; 
but I don’t think the people will let him hurt me, 
unless ” 

“ Well, unless what ? ” 

She hesitated, looking at me, and looked away 
again. I believe that my eyes were now guilty 


144 Phroso: A Romande* 

of neglecting the trap-door which I ought to have 
watched. 

“Unless what?’' I said again. But Phroso 
grew red and did not answer. 

“ Unless you’re so foolish as to try to protect 
me, you mean?”! asked. “Unless you refuse 
to give them back what Constantine offers to 
win for them — the island ? ” 

“ They will not let you have the island,” she 
said in a low voice. “ I dare not face them and 
tell them it is yours.” 

“ Do you admit it’s mine ? ” I asked eagerly. 

A slow smile dawned on Phroso’s face, and she 
held out her hand to me. Ah, Denny, my con- 
science, why were you at the bottom of the 
chasm ? I seized her hand and kissed it. 

“ Between friends,” she said softly, “ there is 
no thine or mine.” 

Ah, Denny, where were you ? I kissed her 
hand again — and dropped it like a red-hot coal. 

“But I can’t say that to my islanders,” said 
Phroso, smiling. 

Charming as it was, I wished she had not said 
it to me. I wished that she would not speak as 
she spoke, or look as she looked, or be what she 
was. I forgot all about the trap-door. The 
island was piling sensations on me. 

At last I got up and went to the table. I 
found there a scrap of paper, on which Denny 


A Knife at a Rope* 


H5 


had drawn a fancy sketch of Constantine (to 
whom, by the way, he attributed hoofs and a tail). 
I turned the blank side uppermost, and took my 
pencil out of my pocket. I was determined to 
put the thing on a business-like footing ; so I 
began : “ Whereas '' — which has a cold, legal, 
business-like sound : 

Whereas,'' I wrote in English, this island 
of Neopalia is mine, I hereby fully, freely, and 
absolutely give it to the Lady Euphrosyne, 
niece of Stefan Georgios Stefanopoulos, lately 
Lord of the said island — Wheatley." And I 
made a copy underneath in Greek, and, walking 
across to Phroso, handed the paper to her, re- 
marking, in a rather disagreeable tone, There 
you are ; that'll put it all straight, I hope." And 
I sat down again, feeling out of humour. I did 
not like giving up my island, even to Phroso. 
Moreover I had the strongest doubt whether 
my surrender would be of the least' use in saving 
my skin. 

I do not know that I need relate what Phroso 
did when I gave her back her island. These 
southern races have picturesque but extravagant 
ways. I did not know where to look while she 
was thanking me, and it was as much as I could 
do not to call out, Do stop ! " However, 
presently she did stop, but not because I asked 
hen She was stayed by a sudden thought which 


146 


Phroso: A Romance# 


had been in my mind all the while, but now 
flashed suddenly into hers. 

‘^But Constantine?^’ she said. ‘‘You know 

his his secrets. Won’t he still try to kill 

you?” 

Of course he would if he valued his own neck. 
For I had sworn to see him hanged for one mur- 
der, and I knew that he meditated another. 

“ Oh, don’t you bother about that ! ” said I. 
“ I expect I can manage Constantine.” 

“ Do you think I’m going to desert you? ” she 
asked in superb indignation. 

“ No, no ; of course not,” I protested, rather in 
a fright. “ I shouldn’t think of accusing you of 
such a thing.” 

“You know that’s what you meant,” said 
Phroso, a world of reproach in her voice. 

“ My dear lady,” said I, “ getting you into 
trouble won’t get me out of it, and getting you 
out may get me out. Take that paper in your 
hand, and go back to your people. Say nothing 
about Constantine just now ; play with him. 
You know what I’ve told you, and you won’t be 
deluded by him. Don’t let him see that you 
know anything of the woman at the cottage. It 
won’t help you, it may hurt me, and it will cer- 
tainly bring her into greater danger ; for, if noth- 
ing has happened to her already, yet something 
may if his suspicions are aroused," 


A Knife at a Rope* X47 

I am to do all this. And what will you do, 
my lord ? 

I say, don't call me ‘ my lord ' ; we say * Lord 
Wheatley.' What am I going to do? I'm go- 
ing to make a run for it." 

But they’ll kill you ! " 

** Then shall I stay here ?" 

Yes, stay here." 

But Constantine's fellows will be here before 
long." 

‘‘You must give yourself up to them, and tell 
them to bring you to me. They couldn't hurt 
you then." 

Well, I wasn’t sure of that, but I pretended to 
believe it. The truth is that I dared not tell 
Phroso what I had actually resolved to do. It 
was a risky job, but it was a chance ; and it was 
more than a chance. It was very like an obliga- 
tion that a man had no right to shrink from dis- 
charging. Here was I, planning to make Phroso 
comfortable : that was right enough. And here 
was I planning to keep my own skin whole : well, 
a man does no wrong in doing that. But what 
of that unlucky woman on the hill? I knew 
friend Constantine would take care that Phroso 
should not come within speaking distance of her. 
Was nobody to set her on her guard? Was I to 
leave her to her blind trust of the ruffian whom 
she was unfortunate enough to call husband, and 


148 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


of his tool Vlacho ? Now I came to think of it, 
now that I was separated from my friends and 
had no lingering hope of being able to beat Con- 
stantine in fair fight, that seemed hardly the 
right thing, hardly a thing I should care to talk 
about or think about, if I did save my own 
precious skin. Would not Constantine teach his 
wife the secret of the Stefanopouloi ? Urged by 
these reflections, I made up my mind to play a 
little trick on Phroso, and feigned to accept her 
suggestion that I should rely on her to save me. 
Evidently she had great confidence in her influ- 
ence now that she held that piece of paper. I 
had less confidence in it, for it was clear that 
Constantine wielded immense power over these 
unruly islanders, and I thought it likely enough 
that they would demand from Phroso a promise 
to marry him as the price of obeying her; then, 
whether Constantine did or not promise me my 
life, I felt sure that he would do his best to rob 
me of it. 

Well, time pressed. I rose and unbolted the 
door of the house. Phroso sat still. I looked 
along the road. I saw nobody, but I heard the 
blast of the horn which had fallen on my ears 
once before, and had proved the forerunner of an 
attack. Phroso also heard it, for she sat up, say- 
ing, ‘‘ Hark, they are summoning all the men to 
the town ! That means they are coming here,^ 


149 


A Knife at a Rope* 

But it meant something else also to me ; if the 
men were summoned to the town, there would 
be fewer for me to elude in the wood. 

‘^Will they all go.^” I asked, as though in 
mere curiosity. 

All who are not on some duty,” she an- 
swered. 

I had to hope for the best ; but Phroso went 
on in distress, — 

It means that they are coming here — here, to 
take you.” 

** Then you must lose no time in going,” said I, 
and I took her hand and gently raised her to her 
feet. She stood there for a moment, looking at 
me. I had let go her hand, but she took mine 
again now, and she said with a sudden vehemence, 
and a rush of rich, deep red on her cheeks, — 

If they kill you, they shall kill me too.” 

The words gushed impetuously from her, but 
at the end there was a choke in her throat. 

‘‘ No, no, nonsense,” said I. “You’ve got the 
island now. You mustn’t talk like that.” 

“ I don’t care ” she began ; and stopped 

short. 

“ Besides, I shall pull through,” said I. 

She dropped my hand, but she kept her eyes 
on mine. 

** And if you get away ? ” she asked. “ What 
will you do ? If you get to Rhodes, what will 
you do ? ” 


ISO 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


‘‘All I shall do is to lay an information against 
your cousin and the innkeeper. The rest are 
ignorant fellows, and I bear them no malice. 
Besides, they are your men now.’' 

“And when you have done that?" she asked 
gravely. 

“Well, that’ll be all there is to do," said I, 
with an attempt at playful gaiety. It was not a 
very happy attempt. 

“Then you’ll go home to your own people?" 

“ I shall go home; I’ve got no people in par- 
ticular." 

“Shall you ever come to Neopalia again? " 

“ I don’t know. Yes, if you invite me." 

She regarded me intently for a full minute. 
She seemed to have forgotten the blast of the 
horn that summoned the islanders. I also had 
forgotten it ; I saw nothing but the perfect oval 
face, crowned with clustering hair and framing 
deep liquid eyes. Then she drew a'ring from her 
finger. 

“You have fought forme," she said. “You 
have risked your life for me. Will you take this 
ring from me ? Once I tried to stab ’’you. Do 
you remember, my lord?" 

I bowed my head, and Phroso set the ring on 
my finger. 

“ Wear it till a woman you love gives you one 
to wear instead," said Phroso, with a little smile. 


A Knife at a Rope* 151 

Then go to the edge of your island, — ^you are 
an islander too, are you not, so we are brethren? 
— go to the edge of your island and throw it into 
the sea ; and perhaps my dear friend the sea will 
bring it back, a message from you to me. For I 
think you will never again come to Neopalia/' 

I made no answer; we walked together to the 
door of the house, and paused again for a mo- 
ment on the threshold. 

See the blue sea ! said Phroso. Is it not 
— is not your island — a beautiful island ? If God 
brings you safe to your own land, my lord, as I 
will pray Him to do on my knees, think kindly 
of your island, and of one who dwells there.'' 

The blast of the horn had died away. The 
setting sun was turning blue to gold on the quiet 
water. The evening was very still, as we stood 
looking from the threshold of the door, under 
the portal of the house that had seen such 
strange, wild doings, and had so swiftly made for 
itself a place for ever in my life and memory. 

I glanced at Phroso’s face. Her eyes were 
set on the sea, her cheek had gone pale again, 
and her lip was quivering. Suddenly came a 
loud sharp note on the horn. 

It is the signal for the start,'* said she. ‘‘ I 
must go, or they will be here in heat and anger, 
and I shall not be able to stop them. And they 
will kill my lord. No, I will say ‘ my lord.' " 


IS2 Phfoso: A Romance* 

She moved to leave me. I had answered 
nothing to all she had said. What was there 
that an honourable man could say ? Was there 
one thing ? I told myself (too eager to tell my- 
self) that I had no right to presume to say that. 
And anything else I would not say. 

‘‘ God bless you/* I said, as she moved away. 
I caught her hand and again lightly kissed it. 

My homage to the Lady of the Island,’’ I 
whispered. 

Her hand dwelt in mine a moment, briefer 
than our divisions of time can reckon, fuller than 
is often the longest of them. Then, with one last 
look, questioning, appealing, excusing, protest- 
ing, confessing, aye, and (for my sins) hoping, 

she left me, and stepped along the rocky 

road in the grace and glory of her youth and 
beauty. I stood watching her, forgetting the 
woman at the cottage, forgetting my own danger, 
forgetting even the peril she ran whom I watched, 
forgetting everything save the old that bound 
me and the new that called me. So I stood till 
she vanished from my sight ; and still I stood, 
for she was there though the road hid her. And 
I was roused at last only by a great cry, of sur- 
prise, of fierce joy and triumph, that rent the 
still air of the evening, and echoed back in rum- 
blings from the hill. The Neopalians were greet- 
ing their rescued Lady. 


iS3 


A Knife at a Rope* 

Then I turned, snatched up Hogvardt’s lance 
again, and fled through the house to do my 
errand. For I would save that woman, if I 
could ; and my own life was not mine to lose any 
more than it was mine to give to whom I would. 
And I recollect that, as I ran through the kitchen 
and across the compound, making for the steps 
in the bank of rocks, I said, ‘‘ God forgive me ! '' 


CHAPTER DC 

Hats off to SU Tryphon! 

A man’s mind can move on more than one 
line ; even the most engrossing selfish care may 
fail entirely to occupy it or to shut out intruding 
rivals. Not only should I have been wise, but I 
should have chosen, in that risky walk of mine 
through the wood that covered the hillslope, to 
think of nothing but its risk. Yet countless 
other things exacted a share of my thoughts and 
figured amongst my brain’s images. Sometimes 
I was with Denny and his faithful followers, 
threading dark and devious ways in the bowels of 
the earth ; avoiding deep waters on one side, 
and sheer falls on the other ; losing the track, 
and finding it again ; deluded by deceptive glim- 
mers of light, but finding at last the true outlet ; 
now received hospitably by the Cypriote fisher- 
men, now fiercely assailed by them, again finding 
none of them ; now making allies of them, now 
carried prisoners by them to Constantine, again 
scouring the sea with vain eagerness for a sight 
of their sails. Then I was off, far away, to Eng- 


Hats off to Su Tryphonl 155 

land : to my friends there ; to the gaiety of Lon- 
don, now in its full rushing tide ; to Mrs. Hip- 
grave’s exclusive receptions ; to Beatrice’s gay 
talk and pretty insolence ; to Hamlyn’s gilded 
dullness, — in rapid sufvey of all the panorama 
that I knew so well. Then I would turn back to 
the scene I had left, and again bid my farewell 
under the quiet sky, in prospect of the sea that 
turned to gold. So I passed back and forward 
till I seemed myself hardly a thinking man, but 
rather a piece of blank glass, across which the 
myriad mites of the kaleidoscope chased one 
another, covering it with varying colours, but 
none of them imparting their hue to it. Yet all 
this time, by the strange division of mental activ- 
ity of which I have spoken, I was crawling cau- 
tiously but quickly up the mountain side, with 
eyes keen to pierce the dusk that now fell, with 
ears apt to find an enemy in every rustling leaf, 
and a hostile step in every woodland sound. Of 
real foes I had as yet seen none. Ah ! Hush ! 
I dropped on my knees. Away there on the 
right — what was it leaning against that tree- 
trunk ? It was a tall, lean man ; his arms rested 
on a long gun, and his face was towards the old 
grey house. Would he see me? I crouched 
lower. Would he hear me? I was as still as 
dead Spiro had lain in the passage. But then I 
felt stealthily for the butt of my revolver, and a 


Phfosot A Romance# 


recollection so startling came to me that I nearly 
betrayed myself by some sudden movement. In 
the distribution of burdens for our proposed 
journey Denny had taken the case containing 
the spare cartridges which remained after we had 
all reloaded. Now I had one barrel only loaded, 
one shot only left. That one shot and Hog- 
vardt’s lance were all my resources. I crouched 
yet lower. But the man was motionless, and 
presently I ventured to move on my hands and 
knees, sorely inconvenienced by the long lance, 
but determined not to leave it behind me. I 
passed another sentry a hundred yards or so 
away on the left ; his head was sunk on his 
breast and he took no notice of me. I breathed 
a little more freely as I came within fifty feet of 
the cottage. 

Immediately about the house nobody was in 
sight. This, however, in Neopalia, did not al- 
ways mean that nobody was near, and I abated 
none of my caution. But the last step had to be 
taken ; I crawled out from the shelter of the 
trees, and crouched on one knee on the level 
space in front of the cottage. The cottage door 
was open. I listened, but heard nothing. Well, 
I meant to go in ; my entrance would be none 
the easier for waiting. A quick dart was safest ; 
in a couple of bounds I was across, in the veran- 
dah, through the entrance, in the house. I 


Hats off to St* Tryphonl 


IS7 


closed the door noiselessly behind me, and stood 
there, Hogvardt’s lance ready for the first man I 
saw ; but I saw none. I was in a narrow passage ; 
there were doors on either side of me. Listen- 
ing again, I heard no sound from right or left. I 
opened the door to the right. I saw a small 
square room ; the table was spread for a meal, 
three places being laid, but the room was empty. 
I turned to the other door and opened it. This 
room was darker, for heavy curtains, drawn 
no doubt earlier in the day to keep out the sun, 
had not been drawn back, and the light was 
very dim. For a while I could make out little, 
but, my eyes growing more accustomed to the 
darkness, I soon perceived that I was in a sit- 
ting-room, sparsely and rather meanly furnished. 
Then my eyes fell on a couch which stood 
against the wall opposite me. On the couch lay 
a figure. It was the figure of a woman ; I heard 
now the slight but regular sound of her breath. 
She was asleep. This must be the woman I 
sought. But was she a sensible woman? Or 
would she scream when I waked her, and bring 
those tall fellows out of the wood ? In hesitation 
I stood still and watched her. She slept like one 
who was weary, but not at peace : restless move- 
ments and, now and again, broken, incoherent 
exclamations witnessed to her disquiet. Pres- 
ently her broken sleep passed into hrif-wakeful 


iS^ Phfoso: A Romance* 

consciousness, and she sat up, looking round her 
with a dazed glance. 

Is that you, Constantine ? ” she asked, rub- 
bing her hand across her eyes. “ Or is it Vlacho ? 

With a swift step I was by her. 

Neither. Not a word ! '' I said, laying my 
hand on her shoulder. 

I was, I dare say, an alarming figure, with the 
butt of my revolver peeping out of my pocket 
and Hogvardt's lance in my right hand. But 
she did not cry out. 

I am Wheatley. I have escaped from the 
house there,'' I went on. And I have come 
here because there’s something I must tell you. 
You remember our last meeting.^" 

She looked at me still in amazed surprise, but 
with a gleam of recollection. 

Yes, yes. You were — we went to watch you 
— yes, at the restaurant." 

You went to watch and to listen ? Yes, I sup- 
posed so. But I’ve been near you since then. 
Do you remember the man who was on your 
verandah ? " 

‘‘ That was you?" she asked quickly. 

‘‘Yes, it was. And while I was there, I 
heard ’’ 

“ But what are you doing here ? This house 
is watched. Constantine may be here any mo- 
pient, or Vlacho,’’ 


159 


Hats off to SU Tryphon! 

I’m as safe here as I was down the hill. 
Now listen. Are you this man’s wife, as he 
called you that night?” 

^‘Am I his wife? Of course I’m his wife. 
How else should I be here?” The indignation 
expressed in her answer was the best guarantee 
of its truth, and became her well. And she held 
her hand up to me, as she had to the man him- 
self in the restaurant, adding, ‘‘There is his 
ring.” 

“ Then listen to me, and don’t interrupt,” said 
I brusquely. “ Time’s valuable to me, and even 
more, I fear, to you.” 

Her eyes were alarmed now, but she listened 
in silence as I bade her. I told her briefly what 
had happened to me, and then I set before her 
more fully the conversation between Constantine 
and Vlacho which I had overheard. She clutched 
the cushions of the sofa in her clenched hand; 
her breathing came quick and fast ; her eyes 
gleamed at me even in the gloom of the cur- 
tained room. I do not believe that in her heart 
she was surprised at what she heard. She had 
mistrusted the man ; her manner, even on our first 
encounter, had gone far to prove that. She re- 
ceived my story rather as a confirmation of her 
own suspicions than as a new or startling reve- 
lation. She was fearful, excited, strung to a 
high pitch ; but astonished she was not, if I read 


i6o Phfoso: A Romance* 

her right. And when I ended, it was not aston- 
ishment that clenched her lips and brought to 
her eyes a look which I think Constantine him- 
self would have shrunk from meeting. I had 
paused at the end of my narrative, but I recol- 
lected one thing more. I must warn her about 
the secret passage ; for that offered her husband 
too ready and easy a way of relieving himself of 
his burden. But now she interrupted me. 

This girl ? she said. I have not seen her. 
What is she like ? ’’ 

She is very beautiful,’' said I simply. She 
knows what I have told you, and she is on her 
guard. You need fear nothing from her. It is 
your husband whom you have to fear." 

He would kill me?" she asked, with a ques- 
tioning glance. 

^‘You’ve heard what he said," I returned. 
‘‘ Put your own meaning on it." 

She sprang to her feet. 

‘‘ I can’t stay here ; I can’t stay here. Mer- 
ciful heaven ! they may come any moment ! 
Where are you going? How are you going to 
escape ? You are in as much danger as I am.’’ 

** I believe in even greater,’’ said I. “ I was 
going straight from here down to the sea. If I 
can find my friends, we’ll go through with the 
thing together. If I don’t find them, I shall 
hunt for a boat. If I don’t find a boat — well. I’m 





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Hats off to St# Tryphonl i6i 

a good swimmer, and I shall live as long in the 
water as in Neopalia, and die easier, I fancy.’’ 

She was standing now, facing me, and she laid 
her hand on my arm. 

‘‘You stand by women, you Englishmen,” she 
said. “You won’t leave me to be murdered ? ” 

“You see I am here. Doesn’t that answer 
your question ? ” 

“ My God, he’s a fiend ! Will you take me 
with you ? ” 

What could I do ? Her coming gave little 
chance to her and robbed me of almost all pros- 
pect of escape. But of course I could not leave 
her. 

“ You must come if you can see no other way,” 
said I. 

“Why, what other is there? If I avoid him 
he will see I suspect him. If I appear to trust 
him, I must put myself in his power.” 

“ Then we must go,” said I. “ But it’s a thou- 
sand to one that we don’t get through.” 

I had hardly spoken when a voice outside said, 
“ Is all well ? ” and a heavy step echoed in the 
verandah. 

“ Vlacho ! ” she hissed in a whisper. “ Vlacho ! 
Are you armed ? ” 

“ In a way,” said I with a shrug. “ But there 
are at least two besides him. I saw them in the 
wood.” 


i 62 


Pht ; A Romance# 


Yes, yes, true. here are four generally. It 
would be death. -Here, hide behind the curtains, 
ril try to put him off for the moment. Quick, 
Quick ! 

She was hurried and eager, but I saw that her 
wits were clear. I stepped behind the curtains 
and she drew them close. I heard her fling 
herself again on the couch. Then came the inn- 
keeper’s voice, its roughness softened in deferen- 
tial greeting. At the same time a strong smell 
of eau de Cologne pervaded the room. 

‘‘Am I well.^” said Madame Stefanopoulos 
fretfully. “ My good Vlacho, I am very ill. 
Should I sit in a dark room and bathe my head 
with this stuff if I were well? ” 

“ My lady’s sickness grieves me beyond expres- 
sion,” said Vlacho politely. “ And the more so 
because I am come from my Lord Constantine 
with a message for you.” 

“ It is easier for him to send messages than to 
come himself,” she remarked, with admirable 
pretence of resentment. 

“Think how occupied he has been with this 
pestilent Englishman ! ” said the plausible Vla- 
cho. “We have had no peace. But at last I 
hope our troubles are over. The house is ours 
again.” 

“ Ah, you have driven them out ? ” 

“ They fled themselves,” said Vlacho. “ But 


Hats off to St* Tryphonl 163 

they are separated and wellhall catch them. Oh, 

yes, we know where to look for most of them/' 

“ Then you've not caught any of them yet ? 
How stupid you are ! " 

My Lady is severe. No, we have caught none 

yet. '’ 

‘‘Not even Wheatley himself?” she asked. 
“ Has he shown you a clean pair of heels?” 

Vlacho's voice betrayed irritation as he an- 
swered, — 

“ We shall find him also in time, though 
heaven knows where the rascal has hidden him- 
self.” 

“ You’re really very stupid,” said Francesca. 
I heard her sniff her perfume. “ And the girl ? ” 
she went on. 

“ Oh, we have her safe and sound,” laughed 
Vlacho. “ She'll give no more trouble.” 

“ Why, what will you do with her ? ” 

“You must ask my Lord that,” said Vlacho. 
“ If she will give up the island, perhaps noth- 
ing.” 

“ Ah, well, I take very little interest in her. 
Isn't my husband coming to supper, Vlacho ? ” 
“To supper here, my Lady? Surely, no. 
The great house is ready now. That is a more 
fitting place for my Lady than this dog-hole. I 
am here to escort you there ; there my Lord will 
sup with you. Oh, it’s a grand house ! ” 


164 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


‘‘A grand house!’’ she echoed scornfully. 

Why, what is there to see in it ? ” 

Oh, many things,” said Vlacho. ‘‘Yes, 
secrets, my Lady I And my Lord bids me say 
that from love to you he will show you to-night 
the great secret of his house. He desires to 
show his love and trust in you, and will therefore 
reveal to you all his secrets.” 

When I, behind the curtain, heard the ruffian 
say this, I laid firmer hold on my lance. But the 
Lady was equal to Vlacho. 

“ You’re very melodramatic with your secrets,” 
she said contemptuously. “ I am tired, and my 
head aches. Your secrets will wait ; and if my 
husband will not come and sup with me. I’ll sup 
alone here. Tell him I can’t come, please, 
Vlacho.” 

“ But my Lord was most urgent that you 
should come,” said Vlacho. 

“ I would come if I were well,” said she. 

But I could help you. If you would permit, 
I and my men would carry you down all the way 
on your couch.” 

“ My good Vlacho, you are very tedious, you 
and your men. And my husband is tedious also, 
if he sent all these long messages. I am ill and 
I will not come. Is that enough?” 

“ My Lord will be very angry if I return alone,” 
pleaded Vlacho humbly. 


Hats off to St* Trypfionl i6^ 

‘‘ ril write a certificate that you did your best 
to persuade me/’ she said with a scornful laugh. 

I heard the innkeeper’s heavy feet move a step 
or two across the floor. He was coming nearer 
to where she lay on the couch. 

I daren’t return without you,” said he. 

Then you must stay here and sup with me.” 

My Lord does not love to be opposed.” 

Then, my good Vlacho, he should not have 
married me,” she retorted. 

She played the game gallantly, fencing and 
parrying with admirable tact, and with a coolness 
wonderful for a woman in such peril. My heart 
went out to her, and I said to myself that she 
should not want any help that I could give. 

She had raised her voice on the last words, and 
her defiant taunt rang out clear and loud. It 
seemed to alarm Vlacho. 

“ Hush, not so loud ! ” he said hastily. There 
was the hint of a threat in his voice. 

“Not so loud!” she echoed. “And why not 
so loud? Is there harm in what I say?” 

I wondered at Vlacho’s ''sudden fright. The 
idea shot into my head — and the idea was no 
pleasant one — that there must be people within 
earshot, perhaps people who had not been trusted 
with Constantine’s secrets, and would for that 
reason do his bidding better. 

“Harm! No, no harm; but no need to let 


;66 


Phroso: A Romance* 


every one hear/' said Vlacho confusedly and with 
evident embarrassment. 

Every one ? Who is here, then ? ” 

I have brought one or two men to escort my 
Lady/’ said he. With these cut-throat Eng- 
lishmen about [Bravo, bravo, Vlacho !] one must 
be careful.” 

A scornful laugh proclaimed her opinion of his 
subterfuge, and she met him with a skilful thrust. 

But if they don’t know — yes, and aren’t to 
know, that I am the wife of Constantine, how 
can I go to the house and stay with him ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Oh,” said he, ready again with his plausible 
half-truths, “ that is one of the secrets. Must I 
tell my Lady part of it ? There is an excellent 
hiding-place in the house, where my Lord can 
bestow you most comfortably. You will want 
for nothing, and nobody will know that you are 
there, except the few faithful men who have 
guarded you here.” 

‘‘ Indeed, if I’m still to be a stowaway. I’ll 
stay here,” said she. If my Lord will announce 
me publicly to all the island as his wife, then I 
will come and take my place at the head of his 
house. But without that I will not come.” 

“ Surely you will be able to persuade him to 
that yourself,” said Vlacho. But dare I make 
conditions with my Lord ? ” 


Hats off to St* TryphonI 167 

‘‘You will make them in my name,” she an- 
swered. “ Go and tell him what I say.” 

A pause followed. Then Vlacho said in sullen, 
obstinate tones, — 

“ ril not go without you. I was ordered to 
bring you, and I will. Come.” 

I heard the sudden rustle of her dress as she 
drew back ; then a little cry, — “You’re hurting 
me.” 

“You must come,” said Vlacho. “I shall call 
my men and carry you.” 

“ I will not come,” she said in a low voice, 
resolute and fierce. 

Vlacho laughed. “We’ll see about that,” said 
he, and his heavy steps sounded on the floor. 

“ What are you going to the window for ? ” 
she cried. 

“To call Demetri and Kortes to help me,” 
said he. “ Or will you come } ” 

I drew back a pace, resting against the win- 
dow-sill ; Hogvardt’s lance was protruded before 
me. At that moment I asked nothing better 
than to bury its point in the fat innkeeper’s flesh. 

“You’ll repent it if you do what you say,” 
said she. 

“ I shall repent it more if I don’t obey my 
Lord,” said Vlacho. “ See, my hand is on the 
curtains. Will you come, my Lady? ” 

“ I will not come,” said she. 


i68 


Phroso: A Romance# 


There was one last short interval. I heard 
them both breathing, and I held my own breath. 
My revolver rested in my pocket ; the noise of a 
shot would be fatal. With God's help I would 
drive the lance home with one silent, sufficient 
thrust. There would be a rogue less in the 
world and another chance for her and me. 

As you will, then," said the innkeeper. 

The curtain-rings rattled along the rod ; the 
heavy hangings gave back ; the moon, which was 
newly risen, streamed full in Vlacho’s eyes and 
on the pale, strained face behind him. He saw 
me ; he uttered one low exclamation, — ‘‘ Christ ! " 
His hand flew to his belt ; he drew a pistol out 
and raised it. But I was too quick for him. I 
drove the great hunting-knife on the end of the 
sapling full and straight into his breast. With a 
groan he flung his arms over his head and fell 
sideways, half-supported by the curtain till the 
fabric was rent away from the rings and fell over 
his body, enveloping him in a thick pall. I drew 
my lance back. The force of the blow had over- 
strained Hogvardt's wire fastenings ; the blade 
was bent to an angle with the shaft and shook 
loosely from side to side. Vlacho's blood began 
to curl in a meandering trickle from beneath the 
curtain. Madame Stefanopoulos glared at me, 
speechless. But my eyes fell from her to the 
floor ; for there I saw too long black shadows. 


Hats off to St* TryphonI 169 

A sudden and desperate inspiration seized me. 
She was my ally ; I hers : if both were held 
guilty of this act we could render no service to 
each other. If she were still unsuspected — and 
nobody except myself had heard her talk with 
Vlacho — she might yet help herself and me. 

‘‘Throw me over,” I whispered in English. 
“ Cry for help.” 

“ What?” 

“Cry. The men are there. You may help 
me afterwards.” 

“What, pretend ” 

“Yes. Quick.” 

“ But they'll ” 

“ No, no. Quick, for God's sake, quick.” 

“God help us,” she whispered. Then she 
cried loudly, “ Help, help, help ! ” 

I sprang towards her. There was the crash of a 
man leaping through the open window. I turned. 
Behind him I saw Demetri standing in the moon- 
light. Other figures hurried up ; feet pattered 
on the hard ground. The man who had leaped 
in — a very tall, handsome, and athletic fellow, 
whom I had not seen before — held to my head a 
long old-fashioned pistol. I let my hands drop 
to my side and faced him with a smile on my 
lips. It must be death to resist, — death to me 
and death to my new friend ; surrender might 
open a narrow way of safety. 


170 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


I yield/’ said I. 

Who are you ? ” he cried. 

** I am Lord Wheatley/’ I answered. 

But did you not fly to the ? ” He stopped. 

‘‘ To the passage ?” said 1. No, I came here. 
I was trying to escape. I came in while Madame 
here was asleep and hid behind the curtain.” 

“Yes, yes,” said she. “It is so, Kortes, it is 
as he says ; and then Vlacho came ” 

“And,” said I, “ when the lady had agreed to 
go with Vlacho, Vlacho came to the window to 
call you ; and by misadventure, sir, he came on 
me behind the curtain. And — won’t you see 
whether he’s dead ? ” 

“ Kill him, Kortes, kill him ! ” cried Demetri, 
fiercely and suddenly, from the window. 

Kortes turned round. 

“ Peace ! ” said he. “ The man has yielded. 
Do I kill men who have yielded ? The Lady of 
the island and my Lord Constantine must decide 
his fate; it is not my office. Are you armed, 
sir?” 

It went to my heart to give up that last trea- 
sured shot of mine. But he was treating me as 
an honourable man. I handed him my revolver 
with a bow, saying, — 

“ I depend on you to protect me from that 
fellow and the rest till you deliver me to those 
you speak of.” 


Hats off to SU Tryphon! 17 1 

In my charge you are safe/' said Kortes, 
and he stooped down and lifted the curtain from 
Vlacho's face. The innkeeper stirred and 
groaned. He was not dead yet. Kortes turned 
round to Demetri. 

Stay here and tend him. Do what you can 
for him. When I am able, I will send aid to 
him. But I don’t think he will live.” 

Demetri scowled. He seemed not to like the 
part assigned to him. 

“ Are you going to take this man to my Lord 
Constantine?” he asked. Leave another with 
Vlacho, and let me come with you to my Lord.” 

Who should better stay with Vlacho than his 
nephew Demetri?” asked Kortes with a smile. 
(This relationship was a new light to me.) I 
am going to do what my duty is. Come, no 
questioning. Do not I command, now Vlacho is 
wounded ? ” 

“ And the lady here ? ” asked Demetri. 

‘‘ I am not ordered to lay a finger on the lady,” 
answered Kortes. ‘‘ Indeed I don’t know who 
she is.” 

Francesca interposed with great dignity, — 

I will come with you,” said she. “ I have 
my story to tell when this gentleman is put on 
his trial. Who I am you will know soon.” 

Demetri had climbed in at the window. He 
passed me with a savage .scowl, and I noticed 


172 


Phroso: A Romance^ 


that one side of his head was bound with a 
bloodstained bandage. He saw me looking at 
it. 

“ Aye,” he growled, I owe you the loss of 
half an ear.” 

In the passage? ” I hazarded, much pleased. 

I shall pay the debt,” said he, or see it 
paid handsomely for me by my Lord.” 

Come,” said Kortes. Let us go.” 

Fully believing that the fact of Kortes being 
in command instead of Demetri had saved me 
from instant death, I was not inclined to dispute 
his orders. I walked out of the house and took 
the place he indicated to me in the middle of a 
line of islanders, some ten or twelve in number. 
Kortes placed himself by my side, and Madame 
Stefanopoulos walked on his other hand. The 
islanders maintained absolute silence. I followed 
their example, but my heart (I must confess) beat 
as I waited to see in what direction our column 
was to march. We started down the hill towards 
the house. If we were going to the house, I had 
perhaps twenty minutes to live ; and the lady 
who was with us would not long survive me. In 
vain I scanned Kortes’s comely, grave features. 
He marched with the impassive regularity of a 
grenadier and displayed much the same expres- 
''aonless steadiness of face. Nearer to the fatal 
we came. But my heart gave a sudden 


Hats off to SU Tryphon! 173 

leap of hope and excitement, for Kortes cried 
softly, ‘‘To the right.” We turned down the 
path that led up from the town, leaving the 
house on the left. We were not going straight 
to death, then, and every respite was pregnant 
with unforeseen chances of escape. I touched 
Kortes on the shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” I asked. 

“To the town,” he answered. 

Again in silence we pursued our way down the 
hillside. The path broadened, and the incline 
became less steep ; a few lights twinkled from 
the sea, which now spread before us. Still we 
went on. Then I heard the bell of a church strike 
twelve. The strokes ended, but another bell 
began to ring. Our escort stopped with one ac- 
cord. They took off their caps and signed the 
cross on their breasts. Kortes did the same as 
the rest. I looked at him in question, but he 
said nothing till the caps were replaced and vvc 
were on our way again. Then he said, — 

“To-day is the feast of Saint Tryphon. 
Didn’t you know?” 

“No,” said I. “Saint Tryphon I knoW; but 
his feast is not kept always on this day.” 

“Always on this day in Neopalia,” he an- 
swered, and he seemed to look at me as thoujjh 
he were asking me some unspoken question. 

The feast of St. Tryphon might have interim, 


174 Phfoso: A Romance* 

me very much at any ordinary time, but just 
now my study of the customs of the islanders 
had been directed into another channel, and I 
did not pursue the subject. Kortes walked in 
silence some little way farther. We had now 
reached the main road and were descending rap- 
idly towards the town. I saw again the steep, 
narrow street, empty and still in the moonlight. 
We held on our way till we came to a rather 
large square building which stood back from the 
road and had thus escaped my notice when wc 
passed it on the evening of our arrival. Before 
this Kortes halted. Here you must lodge with 
me,’' said he. Concerning the lady I have no 
orders.” 

Madame Stefanopoulos caught my arm. 

I must stay too,” said she. I can’t go back 
to my house.” 

*‘It is well,” said Kortes calmly. ‘‘There are 
two rooms.” 

The escort ranged themselves outside the 
building, which appeared to be either a sort of 
barrack or a place of confinement. We three en- 
tered. At a sign from Kortes, Madame Stefan- 
opoulos passed into a large room on the right. 
I followed him into a smaller room, scantily 
furnished, and flung myself in exhaustion on a 
wooden bench that ran along the wall. For an 
instant Kortes stood regarding me. His face 


Hats off to St* TryphonI 


175 

seemed to express hesitation, but the look in his 
eyes was not unfriendly. The bell, which had 
continued to ring till now, ceased. Then Kortes 
said to me in a low voice, — 

‘‘ Take courage, my lord. For a day you are 
safe. Not even Constantine would dare to kill a 
man on the feast of Saint Tryphon.’* 

Before I could answer he was gone. I heard 
the bolt of the door run home. I was a pri- 
soner. 

Yet I took courage, as he bade me. Four-and- 
twenty hours* life was more than I had been able 
to count on for some time past. So I also doffed 
my hat in honour of the holy St. Tryphon. 
And presently I lifted my legs on the bench, 
took off my coat and made a pillow of it, and 
went to sleep. 


CHAPTER 

The Justice of the Island* 


Helplessness brings its own peculiar conso- 
lation. After a week's planning and scheming 
what you will do to the enemy, it is a kind of re- 
lief to sit with hands in pockets and wonder what 
the enemy may be pleased to do with you. 
This relaxation was vouchsafed to my brain 
when I awoke in the morning and found the sun 
streaming into the whitewashed cell-like room. 
It was the feast of St. Tryphon, all praise to him ! 
Kortes said that I could not be executed that 
day. I doubted Constantine’s scruples, yet pro- 
bably he would not venture to outrage the popu- 
lar sentiment of Neopalia. But nothing forbade 
my execution to-morrow. Well, to-morrow is 
to-morrow, and to-day is to-day, and there will 
be that difference between them so long as the 
world lasts. I stretched myself and yawned lux- 
uriously. I was, strangely enough, in a hopeful 
frame of mind. I made sure that Denny had 
found his way safely, and that the Cypriote 
fishermen had been benevolent. I proved to my- 


The Justice of the Island# tjj 

self that with Constantine's exposure his power 
would end. I plumed myself on having put Vla- 
cho hors du combat, I believe I said to myself 
that villainy would not triumph, that honest men 
would come by their own, and that unprotected 
beauty would find help from heaven : convic- 
tions which showed that relics of youth hung 
about me and (I am afraid it depends on this 
rather) that I was feeling very well after my re- 
freshing sleep. 

Alas, my soothing reveries were rudely inter* 
rupted ! 


** At a touch sweet pleasure melteth, 

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth ! " 

And at the sound of a gruff voice outside, my 
dreams melted ; harsh reality was pressing hard 
on me again, crushing hope into resignation, 
buoyancy into a grim resolve to take what came 
with courage. 

‘‘ Bring him out," cried the voice. 

‘‘ It's that brute Demetri," said I to myself, 
wondering what had become of my friendly 
gaoler Kortes. 

A moment later half-a-dozen men filed into the 
room, Demetri at their head. I asked him what 
he wanted. He answered only with a command 
that I should get up. Bring him along," he 


ijS Phfoso: A Romance# 

added to his men ; and we walked out into the 
street. 

Evidently Neopalia was en fite. The houses 
were decked with flags; several windows exhi- 
bited pictures of the Saint; women in their gay 
and spotlessly clean holiday attire strolled along 
the road, holding their children by the hand. 
Everybody made way for our procession, many 
whispers and pointed fingers proving the interest 
and curiosity which it was my unwilling privilege 
to arouse. For about a quarter of a mile we 
mounted the road, then we turned suddenly 
down to the left and began to descend again to- 
wards the sea. Soon now we arrived at the 
little church whose bell I had heard. Here we 
halted ; and presently another procession ap- 
peared from the building. An old white-bearded 
man headed it, carrying a large picture of St. 
Tryphon; the old man's dress was little differ- 
ent from that of the rest of the islanders, but he 
wore the gown and cap of a priest. He was 
followed by some attendants ; the women and 
children fell in behind him ; three or four cripples 
brought up the rear, praying as they went and 
stretching out their hands towards the sacred 
picture which the old man carried. At a sign 
from Demetri we also put ourselves in motion 
again, and the whole body of us thus made for 
the seashore. But some three hundred yards 


179 


The Justice of the Island# 

short of the water I perceived a broad level space, 
covered with short rough turf, and surrounded 
for about half its circuit by a crescent-shaped 
bank two or three feet high. On this bank sat 
some twenty people, and crowded in front of it 
was the same ragged, picturesque company of 
armed peasants that I had seen gather in the 
street on the occasion of our arrival. The old 
man with the picture made his way to the centre 
of the level ground. Thrice he raised the picture 
towards the sky, every one uncovering his head 
and kneeling down the while. He began to pray, 
but I did not listen to what he said ; for by this 
time my attention had wandered from him and 
was fixed intently on a small group which occu- 
pied the centre of the raised bank. There, sit- 
ting side by side, with the space of a foot or so 
between them, were Phroso and her cousin Con- 
stantine. On a rude hurdle, covered with a rug, 
at Constantine’s feet, lay Vlacho, his face pale 
and his eyes closed. Behind Phroso stood my 
new acquaintance, Kortes, with one hand on the 
knife in his girdle and the other holding a long 
gun which rested on the ground. One figure I 
missed. I looked round for Constantine’s wife, 
but she was nowhere to be seen. Then I looked 
again at Phroso. She was dressed in rich, fine 
garments of white, profusely embroidered; but 
her face was paler even than Vlacho’s, and when I 


i8o Phfoso: A Romance* 

sought her eyes she would not meet mine, but 
kept her gaze persistently lowered. Constantine 
sat motionless, with a frown on his brow, but a 
slight smile on his lips, as he waited with an obvi- 
ously forced patience through the long rigmarole 
of the old man's prayer. 

Evidently important business was to be tran- 
sacted, yet nobody seemed to be in a hurry to 
arrive at it. When the old priest had finished 
his prayers the cripples came and prostrated 
themselves before the sacred picture. No mira- 
cle, however, followed; and the priest took up 
the tale again, pouring forth a copious harangue, 
in which I detected frequent references to the 
barbarians,” — a term he used to denote my 
friends, myself, and all the world, apparently, ex- 
cept the islanders of Neopalia. Then he seated 
himself between Phroso and Constantine, who 
made room for him. I was surprised to see him 
assume so much dignity, but I presumed that he 
was treated with exceptional honour on the feast- 
day. When he had taken his place, about twenty 
of the men came into the middle of the ring and 
began to dance, arranging themselves in a semi- 
circle, moving at first in slow rhythmical steps 
and gradually quickening their motions till they 
ended with a wonderful display of activity. Dur- 
ing this performance Phroso and Constantine sat 
still and impassive, while Vlacho’s lifeless face was 


The Justice of the Island* i8i 

scorched by the growing heat of the sun. The 
men who had been told off to watch me leaned 
on their long guns, and I wondered wearily when 
my part in this strangely mixed ceremony was 
to begin. 

At last it came. The dance ended, the per- 
formers flung themselves fatigued on the turf, 
there was a hush of expectation, and the sur- 
rounding crowd of women and children drew 
closer in towards where the rest of the men had 
taken up their position in ranks on either side of 
the central seats. Step forward,’' said one of 
my guards, and I, obeying him, lifted my hat and 
bowed to Phroso. Then, replacing my hat, I stood 
waiting the pleasure of the assembly. All eyes 
were fixed on Constantine, who remained seated 
and silent yet a little while longer. Then he rose 
slowly to his feet, bowed to Phroso, and pointed 
in a melodramatic fashion at Vlacho’s body. But 
I was not in the least inclined to listen to an 
oration in the manner of Mark Antony over the 
body of Caesar, and just as Constantine was 
opening his mouth I observed loudly, — 

“Yes, I killed him, and the reason no man 
knows better than Constantine Stefanopoulos.” 

Constantine glared at me, and, ignoring the 
bearing of my remark, launched out on an eulo- 
gium of the dead innkeeper. It was coldly re- 
ceived. Vlacho’s virtues were not recognised 


i 82 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


by any outburst of grief or indignation ; indeed 
there was a smothered laugh or two when Con- 
stantine called him a brave, true man/' The 
orator detected his failure and shifted his ground 
dexterously, passing on in rapid transition to ask 
in what quarrel Vlacho had died. Now he was 
gripping his audience ; they drew closer ; they 
became very still ; angry and threatening glances 
were bent on me. Constantine lashed himself to 
fury as he cried, He died for our island, which 
this barbarian claims as his ! " 

He died " I began ; but a heavy hand on 

my shoulder and the menace of a knife cut short 
my protest. Demetri had come and taken his 
stand by me, and I knew that Demetri would 
jump at the first excuse to make my silence 
perpetual. So I held my peace, and the men 
caught up Constantine's last point, crying angrily, 
“ Aye, he takes our island from us." 

‘‘ Yes," said Constantine, ‘‘ he has taken our is- 
land, and he claims it for his ; he has killed our 
brethren and put our Lady out of her inheri- 
tance. What shall he suffer? For although we 
may not kill on Saint Tryphon's day, we may 
judge on it, and the sentence may be performed 
at daybreak to-morrow. What shall this man 
suffer? Is he not worthy of death ? " 

It was what lawyers call a leading question, 
and it found its expected answer in a deep, fierce 


183 


The Justice of the Island* 

growl of '' Death, death ! ” Clearly the island 
was the thing, Vlacho’s death merely an inci- 
dental affair of no great importance. I sup- 
pose that Phroso understood this as well as I, 
for now she rose suddenly. Constantine seemed 
disinclined to suffer the interruption, but she 
stood her ground firmly, though her face was 
very pale, and I saw her hands tremble. At last 
he sank back on to the bank. 

Why this turmoil ? she asked. The 
stranger did not know our customs. He thought 
that the island was his by right, and when he was 
attacked he defended himself. I pray you may 
all fight as bravely as he has fought.’' 

But the island, the island ! ” they cried. 
‘‘Yes,” said she, “I also love the island. 
Well, he has given back the island to me. Be- 
hold his writing ! ” She held up the paper 
which I had given to her, and read the writing 
aloud in a clear voice. “ What have you against 
him now ? ” she asked. “ His people have loved 
the Hellenes. He has given back the island. 
Why shall he not depart in peace ? ” 

The effect was great. The old priest seized 
the paper and scanned it eagerly ; it was snatched 
from him and passed rapidly from hand to hand, 
greeted with surprised murmurs and intense ex- 
citement. Phroso stood watching its progress ; 
Constantine sat with a heavy scowl on his face, 


184 Phfoso: A Romance* 

and the frown grew yet deeper when I smiled at 
him with pleasant urbanity. 

It is true/’ said the priest with a sigh of 
relief. ‘‘ He has given back the island ; he need 
not die.” 

Phroso sat down ; a sudden faintness seemed 
to follow on the strain, and I saw Kortes support 
her with his arm. But Constantine was not 
beaten yet. He sprang up and cried in bitterly 
scornful tones, — 

‘‘Aye, let him go — let him go to Rhodes and 
tell the Governor that you sought to slay him 
and his friends ; and that you extorted the paper 
from him by threat of death; and that he gave 
it in fear, but did not mean it ; and that you are 
turbulent, murderous men who deserve great 
punishment. How guileless you are, O Neopa- 
lians ! But this man is not guileless. He can 
delude a girl. He can delude you also, it seems. 
Aye, let him go with his story to the Governor 
at Rhodes — and do you hide in the rocks when 
the Governor comes with his soldiers! Hide 
yourselves, and hide your women, when the sol- 
diers come to set this man over your island and 
to punish you 1 Do you not remember when the 
Governor came before ? Is not the mark of his 
anger branded on your hearts ? ” 

Hesitation and suspicion were aroused again 
by this appeal. Phroso seemed bewildered at it, 


The Justice of the Island* 185 

and gazed at her cousin with parted lips. Angry 
glances were again fixed on me. But the old 
priest rose, and stretched out his hand for 
silence. 

Let the man speak for himself,'' he said. 

Let him tell us what he will do if we set him 
free. It may be that he will give us an oath not 
to harm us, but to go away peaceably to his own 
land and leave us our island. Speak, sir. We 
will listen." 

I was never much of a hand at a speech, and I 
did not enjoy being faced with the necessity of 
making one which might have such important 
results this way or that. But I was quite clear 
in my own mind what I wanted to say ; so I 
took a step forward, and began. 

I bear you Neopalians no malice," said I. 
‘‘You’ve not succeeded in hurting me, and I sup- 
pose you've not caught my friends, or they would 
be here, prisoners as I am a prisoner. Now I 
have killed two good men of yours, Vlacho there 
and Spiro. I am content with that. I'll cry 
you quits. I have given back the island to the 
Lady Euphrosyne ; and what I give to a woman 
— aye, or to a man — I do not ask again either of 
a governor or of anybody else. Therefore your 
island is safe, and I will swear to that by what 
oath you will. And, so far as I have power, no 
man or woman of all who stand round me shall 


i86 


Phroso: A Romance* 


come to any harm by reason of what has been 
done ; and to that also I will swear/' 

They had heard me intently, and they nodded 
in assent and approbation when the old priest, true 
to his part of peacemaker, looking round, said, — 

“ He speaks well. He will not do what my 
Lord feared. He will give us an oath. Why 
should he not depart in peace? " 

Phroso's eyes sought mine, and she smiled sadly. 
Constantine was gnawing his finger-nails and 
looking as sour as a man could look. It went to 
my heart to go on, for I knew that what I had to 
say next would give him another chance against 
me, but I preferred that risk to the only alter- 
native. 

“Wait," said I. “An oath is a sacred thing, 
and I swore an oath when I was there in the 
house of the Stefanopouloi. There is a man here 
who has done murder on an old man his kinsman, 
who has contrived murder against a woman, who 
has foully deceived a girl. With that man I'll 
not cry quits. For I swore that I would not rest 
till he paid the penalty of his crimes. By that 
oath I stand. Therefore when I go from here I 
shall, as Constantine Stefanopoulos has said, go 
to Rhodes and to the Governor, and I shall pray 
him to send here to Neopalia, and take that one 
man and hang him on the highest tree in the 
island. And I will come with the Governor's 


The Justice of the Island* 187 

men and see that thing done. Then I will go 
peaceably to my own land.’' 

There was a pause of surprise. Constantine 
lifted his lids and looked at me ; I saw his hand 
move towards a pocket — I suspected what lay 
in that pocket ; I heard low, eager whisperings 
and questions. At last the old priest asked in 
a timid, hesitating voice, — 

“Who is this man of whom you speak?” 

“ There he is,” said I. “ There — Constantine 
Stefanopoulos.” 

The words were hardly out when Demetri 
clapped a large hairy hand across my mouth, whis- 
pering fiercely, “ Hold your tongue.” I drew 
back a step and struck him fairly between the 
eyes. He went down ; a hoarse cry rose from 
the crowd ; but in an instant Kortes had leaped 
from where he stood behind Phroso and was by 
my side. I had some adherents also among the 
bystanders ; for I had been bidden to speak freely, 
and Demetri had no authority to silence me. 

“Yes, Constantine Stefanopoulos,” I cried. 
“ Did he not stab the old man after he had 
yielded ? Did he not ? ” 

“ The old man sold the island,” growled a 
dozen low, fierce voices ; but the priest’s rose high 
above them. 

“We are not here to judge my Lord Constan- 
tine,” said he, “ but this man here.” 


i88 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


** We all had a hand in the business of the old 
man/' said Demetri, who had picked himself up 
and was looking very vicious. 

‘‘ You lie, and you know it,” said I hotly. ‘‘ He 
had yielded, and the rest had left off attacking 
him. But Constantine stabbed him. Why did 
he stab him ? ” 

There came no answer, and Constantine caught 
at this advantage. 

Yes,” he cried. Why? Why should I stab 
him ? He was stabbed by some one who did not 
know that he had yielded.” Then I saw his eye 
fall suddenly on Vlacho. Dead men tell no tales 
and deny no accusations. 

“ Since Vlacho is dead,” Constantine went on 
with wonderful readiness, my tongue is loosed. 
It was Vlacho who in his hasty zeal stabbed the 
old man.” 

He had gained a point by this clever lie, and 
he made haste to press it to the full against me. 

This man,” he exclaimed, will go to Rhodes 
and denounce me ! But did I kill the old man 
alone? Did I besiege the Englishman alone? 
Will the Governor be content with one victim ? 
Is it not one head in ten when he comes to pun- 
ish? Men of the island, it is your lives and my 
life against this man's life ! ” 

They were with him again, and many shouted, 

Let him die ! Let him die ! ” 


The Justice of the Island* 189 

Then suddenly, before I could speak, Phroso 
rose, and, stretching out her hands towards me, 
said, — 

'' Promise what they ask, my lord. Save your 
own life, my lord. If my cousin be guilty, 
heaven will punish him.’' 

But I did not listen even to her. With a sud- 
den leap I was free from those who held me ; for 
in the ranks of listening women I saw that old 
woman whom we had found watching by the 
dying Lord of the island. I seized her by the 
wrist and dragged her into the middle, crying to 
her, — 

As God’s above you, tell the truth. Who 
stabbed the old Lord ? Whose name did he ut- 
ter in reproach when he lay dying?” 

She stood shivering and trembling in the centre 
of the throng. The surprise of my sudden ac- 
tion held them all silent and motionless. 

Did he not say ‘ Constantine ! You, Constan- 
tine!’?” Tasked. Just before he died ? ” 

The old woman’s lips moved, but no sound 
came ; she was half dead with fear, and fastened 
fascinated eyes on Constantine. He surveyed 
her with a rigid smile on his pale face. 

Speak the truth, woman,” I cried. “ Speak 
the truth.” 

‘‘Yes, speak the truth,” said Constantine, his 
eyes gleaming in triumph as he turned a glance 


190 Phroso: A Romance* 

of hatred on me. Tell us truly who killed my 
uncle.'' 

My witness failed me. The terror of Constan- 
tine, which had locked her tongue when I ques- 
tioned her at the house, lay on her still ; the 
single word that came from her trembling lips 
was Vlacho.” Constantine gave a cry of tri- 
umph, Demetri a wild shout ; the islanders drew 
together; my chance looked black. Even St. 
Tryphon would hardly save me from immediate 
death. But I made another effort. 

Swear her on the sacred picture," I cried. 
‘‘ Swear her on the picture ; if she swears by the 
picture and then says it was Vlacho, I am con- 
tent to die as a false accuser and to die here and 
now." 

My bold challenge won me a respite ; it ap- 
pealed to their rude sense of justice and their 
strong leaven of superstition. 

‘‘Yes, let her swear on the sacred picture," 
cried several. “ Then we shall know." 

The priest brought the picture to her, and swore 
her on it with great solemnity. She shook her 
head feebly and fell to choked weeping. But the 
men round her were resolute, one of them men- 
acing even Constantine himself when he began to 
ask whether her first testimony were not enough. 

“Now you are sworn — speak," said the priest 
solemnly. 


The Justice of the Island* 19 1 

A hush fell on us all. If she answered Con- 
stantine/' my life still hung by a thread ; but by 
saying Vlacho " she would cut the thread. She 
looked at me, at Constantine, then up to the sky, 
while her lips moved in rapid whispered prayers. 

‘‘ Speak,” said the priest to her gently. 

Then she spoke in low fearful tones, — 

‘‘ Vlacho was there, and his knife was ready. 
But my Lord yielded, and cried that he would 
not sell the island. When they heard that, they 
drew back, Vlacho with the rest. But my Lord 
Constantine struck ; and when my Lord lay dy- 
ing it was the name of Constantine that he ut- 
tered in reproach.” And the old woman reeled, 
and would have fallen, and then flung herself on 
the ground at Constantine's feet, crying ‘‘ Pardon, 
my Lord, pardon ! I could not swear falsely on 
the picture. Ah, my Lord, mercy, mercy ! ” 

But Constantine, though he had, as I do not 
doubt, a good memory for offences, could not af- 
ford to think of the old woman now. One in- 
stant he sat still ; then he sprang to his feet, 
crying,— 

‘‘ Let my friends come round me ! Yes, if you 
will, I killed the old man. Was not the deed 
done? Was not the island sold? Was he not 
bound to this man here ? The half of the money 
had been paid ! If he lived, and if this man had 
lived, they would have brought soldiers and con- 


192 


Phfosoj A Romance* 


strained us. So I slew him ; and therefore I 
have sought to kill the stranger also. Who 
blames me? If there be any, let him stand now 
by the stranger, and let my friends stand by 
me. Have we not had enough talk ? Is it not 
time to act? Who loves Neopalia? Who loves 
me ? 

While he spoke, many had been gathering 
round him. With every fresh appeal more 
flocked to him. There were but three or four left 
now, wavering between him and me, and Kortes 
alone stood by my side. 

Are you children, that you shrink from me 
because I struck a blow for our country? Was 
the old man to escape, and live to help this man 
to take our island? Yes, I, Constantine Stefan- 
opoulos, though I was blood of his blood — I killed 
him. Who blames me ? Shall we not finish the 
work ? There the stranger stands ! Men of the 
island, shall we not finish the work ? 

‘‘Well, it's come at last," thought I to myself. 
St. Tryphon would not stop it now. “ It’s no 
use," I said to Kortes. “ Don’t get yourself into 
trouble ! ’’ Then I folded my arms and waited. 
But I do not mean to say that I did not turn a 
little pale. Perhaps I did. At any rate I con- 
trived to show no fear except in that. 

The islanders looked at one another, and then 
at Constantine. Friend Constantine had been 


The Justice of the Island* 193 

ready with his stirring words, but he did not rush 
first to the attack. Besides myself there was 
Kortes, who had not left his place by me, in spite 
of my invitation to him. And Kortes looked as 
though he could give an account of one or two. 
But the hesitation among Constantine's follow- 
ers did not last long. Demetri was no coward at 
all events, although he was as big a scoundrel as 
I have known. He carried a great sword which 
he must have got from the collection on the walls 
of the hall ; he brandished it now over his head, 
and rushed straight at me. It seemed to be all 
over, and I thought that the best I could do was 
to take it quietly ; so I stood still. But on a 
sudden I was pulled back by a powerful arm. 
Kortes flung me behind him and stood between 
me and Demetri's rush. An instant later, ten or 
more of them were round Kortes. He struck at 
them, but they dodged him. One cried, Don’t 
hurt Kortes,” and another, running agilely round, 
caught his arms from behind, and, all gathering 
about him, they wrested his weapons from him. 
My last champion was disarmed ; he had but pro- 
tracted the bitterness of death for me by his gal- 
lant attempt. I fixed my eyes steadily on the 
horizon and waited. The time of my waiting 
must have been infinitesimal, yet I seemed to 
wait some little while. Then Demetri’s great 
sword flashed suddenly between me and the sky. 


194 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


But it did not fall. Another flash came — the 
flash of white, darting across between me and the 
grim figure of my assailant. And Phroso, pale, 
breathless, trembling in every limb, yet holding 
her head bravely, and with anger gleaming in her 
dark eyes, cried, — 

If you kill him you must kill me ; I will not 
live if he dies.’' 

Even Demetri paused ; the rest gave back. I 
saw Constantine’s hatchet-face peering in gloomy 
wrath and trembling excitement from behind the 
protecting backs of his stout adherents. But 
Demetri, holding his sword poised for the stroke, 
growled angrily, — 

What is his life to you. Lady ?” 

Phroso drew herself up. Her face was away 
from me ; but as she spoke I saw a sudden rush 
of red spread over her neck; yet she spoke 
steadily and boldly in a voice that all could 
hear, — 

His life is my life ; for I love him as I love 
my life — ah, and God knows, more, more, more ! ” 


CHAPTER XI* 

The Last Card* 

In most families — at least among those that 
have any recorded history to boast of or to de- 
plore — there is a point of family pride. With 
one it is grace of manner; with another, cour- 
age ; with a third, statecraft ; with a fourth, chi- 
valrous loyalty to a lost cause or a fallen prince. 
Tradition adds new sanction to the cherished 
excellence ; it becomes the heirloom of the 
house, the mark of the race, — in the end, perhaps, 
a superstition before which greater things go 
down : if the men cling to it, they are compen- 
sated by license in other matters ; the women are 
held in honour if they bear sons who do not fail 
in it. It becomes a new god with its worship 
and its altar ; and often the altar is laden with 
costly sacrifices. Wisdom has little part in the 
cult, and the virtues that are not hallowed by 
hereditary recognition are apt to go unhonoured 
and unpractised. I have heard it said, and seen 
it written, that we Wheatleys have, as a stock, 
few merits and many faults. I do not expect my 


196 


Phroso: A Romance# 


career — if, indeed, I have such an ambitious thing 
as a career in my life’s wallet — to reverse that 
verdict. But no man has said or written of us 
that we do not keep faith. Here is our pride 
and palladium. Promises we neither break nor 
ask back. We make them sometimes lightly ; it 
is no matter; substance, happiness, life itself 
must be spent in keeping them. I had learned 
this at my mother’s knee. I myself had seen 
thousands and thousands poured forth to a 
rascally friend on the strength of a schoolboy 
pledge which my father made. Folly, folly ! ” 
cried the world ; whether it were right or not, 
who knows? We wrapped ourselves in the 
scanty mantle of our one virtue, and went our 

way. We always but a man grows tedious 

when he talks of his ancestors ; he is like a dot- 
ing old fellow, garrulous about his lusty youth. 
Enough of it. Yet not more than enough, for I 
carried this religion of mine to Neopalia, and 
built there an altar to it, and prepared for my 
altar the rarest sacrifice. Was I wrong? I do 
not care to ask. 

“ His life is my life. For I love him as my 
life.” The words rang in my ears, seeming to 
echo again through the silence that followed 
them ; they were answered in my heart by beats 
of living blood. Was it true ? ” flashed through 
my brain. Was it truth or stratagem, a noble 


The Last Card* 


197 


falsehood or a more splendid boldness ? I did 
not know. The words were strange, yet to me 
they were not incredible. Had we not lived 
through ages together in those brief, full hours 
in the old grey house ? And the parting in the 
quiet evening had united while it feigned to 
sever. I believe I shut my eyes, not to see the 
slender, stately form that stood between death 
and me. When I looked again, Demetri and his 
angry comrades had fallen back, and stood star- 
ing in awkward bewilderment, but the women 
had crowded in upon us with eager, excited faces ; 
one broad-browed kindly creature had run to 
Phroso and caught her round the waist, and was 
looking in her eyes, and stroking her hand, and 
murmuring soft woman’s comforting. Demetri 
took a step forward. 

‘‘ Come if you dare ! ” cried the woman, bold 
as a legion of men. Is a dog like you to come 
near my Lady Euphrosyne?” And Phroso 
turned her face away from the men and hid it in 
the woman’s bosom. 

Then came a cold, rasping voice, charged with 
a bitter anger that masqueraded as amusement. 

‘‘ What is this comedy, cousin ? ” asked Con- 
stantine. You love this man ? You, the Lady 
of the island — you who have pledged your troth 
to me ? ” He turned to the people, spreading 
out his hands. 


198 


Phroso: A Romance* 


‘‘You all know/' said he, “you all know, that 
we are plighted to one another." 

A murmuring assent greeted his words. “ Yes, 
they are betrothed," I heard half-a-dozen mutter, 
as they directed curious glances at Phroso. “ Yes, 
while the old Lord lived they were betrothed." 

Then I thought it time for me to take a hand 
in the game ; so I stepped forward, in spite of 
Kortes’s restraining arm. 

“ Be careful," he whispered. “ Be careful." 

I looked at him. His face was drawn and 
pale, like the face of a man in pain, but he smiled 
still in his friendly, open fashion. 

“ I must speak," I said. I walked up to within 
two yards of Constantine, the islanders giving 
way before me, and I said loudly and distinctly, — 
“Was that same betrothal before you married 
your wife or afterwards? " 

He sprang half-way up from his seat, as if to 
leap upon me, but he sank back again, his face 
convulsed with passion, and his fingers picking 
furiously at the turf by his side. “ His wife ! " 
went round the ring in amazed whisperings. 

“Yes, his wife," said I. “The wife who was 
with him when I saw him in my country ; the 
wife who came with him here ; who was in the 
cottage on the hill ; whom Vlacho would have 
dragged by force to her death ; who lay last 
night yonder in the guard-house. Where is she, 


The Last Card^ 


199 


Constantine Stefanopoulos ? Or is she dead 
now, and you free to wed the Lady Euphrosyne? 
Is she alive, or has she by now learned the secret 
of the Stefanopouloi ? 

I do not know which made more stir among 
the people, my talk of his wife or my hint about 
the secret. They crowded round me, hemming 
me in. I saw Phroso no more ; but Kortes 
pushed his way to my side. Then the eyes of 
all turned on Constantine, where he sat with face 
working and nails fiercely plucking the turf. 

What is this lie ? '' he cried. ‘‘ I know noth- 
ing of a wife. True, there was a woman in the 
cottage.’' 

‘‘Aye, there was a woman in the cottage,” 
said Kortes. “And she was in the guard-house; 
but I did not know who she was, and I had no 
commands concerning her. And this morning 
she was gone.” 

“ That woman is his wife,” said I. “ But he 
and Vlacho had planned to kill her, in order that 
he might marry your Lady and have your island 
for himself.” 

Demetri suddenly cried, with a great appear- 
ance of horror and disgust, — 

“ Shall he live to speak such a slander against 
my Lord ? ” 

But Demetri gained no attention. I had made 
too much impression. 


200 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


Who was the woman, then,'* said I, and 
where is she ? " 

Constantine, tricky and resourceful, looked 
again on the dead Vlacho. 

‘‘ I may not tell my friend's secrets," said he, 
with an admirable assumption of honour. ‘‘And 
a foul blow has sealed Vlacho’s lips." 

“ Yes," cried 1. “Vlacho killed the old Lord, 
and Vlacho brought the woman ! Indeed Vlacho 
serves my Lord as well dead as when he lived ! 
For now his lips are sealed. Come, then, — • 
Vlacho bought the island, and Vlacho slew Spiro, 
and now Vlacho has slain himself! Neither 
Constantine nor I have done anything; but it 
is all Vlacho — the useful Vlacho — Vlacho — • 
Vlacho ! " 

Constantine's face was a sight to see, and he 
looked no pleasanter when my irony wrung smiles 
from some of the men round him, while others 
bit their lips to stop smiles that sought to come. 

“ O faithful servant ! " I cried, apostrophising 
Vlacho. “Heavy are thy sins! Mayst thou 
find mercy for them ! " 

I did not know what cards Constantine held. 
If he had succeeded in spiriting away his wife, 
by fair means or foul, he had the better chance ; 
but if she were still free, alive and free, then he 
played a perilous hand and was liable to be 
utterly confounded. Yet he was forced to 


The Last Card. 


201 


action ; I had so moved the people that they 
looked for more than mere protests from him. 

“ The stranger who came to steal our island/^ 
said he, skilfully prejudicing me by this descrip- 
tion, ‘‘ asks me where the woman is. But I ask 
it of him — where is she ? For it stands with him 
to put her before you that she may tell you 
whether I, Constantine Stefanopoulos, am lying 
to you. Yet how long is it since you doubted 
the words of the Stefanopouloi and believed 
strangers rather than them ? 

His appeal won on them. They met it with 
murmured applause. 

‘‘You know me, you know my family,” he 
cried. “Yet you hearken to the desperate 
words of a man who fights for his life with lies ! 
How shall I satisfy you? For I have not the 
woman in my keeping. But have you not heard 
me when I swore my love for my cousin before 
you and the old Lord who is dead? Am I a 
man to be forsworn ? Shall I swear to you 
now?” 

The current began to run strongly with him. 
He had called to his aid patriotism and the old 
clan-loyalty which bound the Neopalians to his 
house, and they did not fail him. The islanders 
were ready to trust him if he would pledge him- 
self to them. 

“ Swear then ! ” 


they cried. “ Swear to us on 


202 Phfoso: A Romance* 

the sacred picture that what the stranger says is 
a lie/' 

On the sacred picture ? said he. ‘‘ Is it not 
too great and holy an oath for such a matter ? 
Is not iny word enough for you ? 

But the old priest stepped forward. 

It is a great matter/' said he, for it touches 
closely the honour of your house, my Lord, and 
on it hangs a man's life. Is any oath too great 
when honour and life lie in the balance? Let 
your life stand against his, for he who swears 
thus and falsely has no long life in Neopalia. 
Here we guard the honour of Saint Tryphon.'* 

Yes, swear on the picture," cried the people. 
** It is enough if you swear on the picture ! " 

I could see that Constantine was not in love 
with the suggestion, but he accepted it with toler- 
able grace, acquiescing in the old priest's argument 
with a half-disdainful shrug. The people greeted 
his consent with obvious pleasure, save only 
Demetri, who regarded him with a doubtful ex- 
pression. Demetri knew the truth, and, though 
he would cut a throat with a light heart, he would 
shrink from a denial of the deed when sworn on 
the holy picture. Truly conscience works some- 
times in strange ways, making the lesser sin the 
greater, and dwarfing vile crimes to magnify 
their venial brethren. No, Demetri would not 
have sworn on the picture ; and when he saw it 


The Last Card# ^03 

brought to Constantine he shrank away from his 
leader, and I saw him privily and furtively cross 
himself. But Constantine, freed by the scepti- 
cism he had learned in the West to practise the 
crimes the East had taught him, made little 
trouble about it ; when the ceremonies that had 
attended the old woman’s oath earlier in the day 
had been minutely, solemnly, and tediously re- 
peated, he swore before them as bravely as you 
please and thereby bid fair to write my death- 
warrant in his lying words. For when the oath 
was done, the most awful names in heaven stand- 
ing sanction to his perjury, and he ceased, say- 
ing I have sworn,” the eyes of the men round 
him turned on me again and seemed to ask me 
silently what plea for mercy I could now advance. 
But I caught at my chance. 

‘‘Let Demetri swear,” said I coolly, “that so 
far as his knowledge goes the truth is no other 
than what the Lord Constantine has sworn.” 

“A subterfuge!” cried Constantine impa- 
tiently. “ What should Demetri know of it ? ” 

“If he knows nothing it is easy for him to 
swear,” said I. “ Men of the island, a man 
should have every chance for his life. I have 
given you back your island. Do this for me. 
Make Demetri swear. Ah, look at the man ! See, 
he shakes ; his face goes pale ; there is a sweat 
on his brow. Why, why? Make him swear!” 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


I should not have prevailed without the assist- 
ing evidence of the villain’s face. It was as I 
said ; he grew pale and sweated on the forehead ; 
he cleared his throat hoarsely, but did not speak. 
Constantine’s eyes said, Swear, fool, swear! ** 

“ Let Demetri also swear,” cried some. ‘‘Yes, 
it is easy, if he knows nothing.” 

Suddenly Phroso sprang forward. 

“Yes, let him swear,” she cried. “Who is 
Chief here? Have I no power? Let him 
swear ! ” And she signed imperiously to the 
priest. 

They brought the picture to Demetri ; he 
shrank from it as though its touch would kill him. 

“ In the name of Almighty God, as you hope 
for mercy ; in the name of our Lord the Saviour, 
as you pray for pity ; in the name of the Most 
Blessed Spirit, whose Word is Truth ; by the 

Most Holy Virgin, and by our Holy Saint ” 

began the old man. But Demetri cried hoarsely : 

“Take it away, take it away. I will not 
swear.” 

“ Let him swear,” said Phroso, and this time 
the whole throng caught up her command and 
echoed it in fierce urgency. 

“ Let him swear to tell the whole truth of what 
he knows, hiding nothing, according to the terms 
of the oath,” said the priest, pursuing his ritual. 

“ He shall not swear,” cried Constantine, 


The Last Card* 


205 

springing up. But he spoke to deaf ears and 
won only looks of new-born suspicion. 

It is the custom of the island/’ they growled. 

It has been done in Neopalia time out of 
mind.” 

‘‘Yes,” said the priest. “Time out of mind 
has a man been free to ask this oath of whomso- 
ever he suspected. Swear, Demetri, as our Lady 
and our law bid.” And he ended the words of 
the oath. 

Demetri looked round, to right, to left, and to 
right again. He sought escape. There was 
none: his way was barred. His arms fell by his 
side. 

“ Will you let me go unharmed if I speak the 
truth ? ” he asked sullenly. 

“Yes,” answered Phroso, “if you speak the 
whole truth, you shall go unhurt.” 

The excitement was intense now ; for Demetri 
took the oath, Constantine watching with pale, 
strained face. Then followed a moment’s utter 
silence, broken an instant later by an irresistible 
outbreak of wondering cries, for Demetri said, 
“ Follow me,” and turned and began to walk in 
the direction of the town. “ Follow me,” he 
said again. “ I will tell the truth. I have served 
my Lord well, but a man’s soul is his own. No 
master buys a man’s soul. I will tell the truth.” 

The change in feeling was witnessed by what 


2 o 6 Phroso: A Romance* 

happened. At a sign from the priest, Kortea 
and another each took one of Constantine’s arms 
and raised him. He was trembling now and 
hardly able to set one foot before the other. 
The dogs of justice were hard on his heels and 
he was a craven at heart. Thus bearing him with 
us, in procession we followed Demetri from the 
place of assembly back to the steep, narrow street 
that ran up from the sea. On the way none 
spoke ; in the middle I walked, and in front of 
me went Phroso, the woman who had come to 
comfort her still holding her arm in hers. 

On Demetri led us with quick, decisive steps ; 
but when he came to the door of the inn which 
had belonged to that Vlacho whose body lay 
now deserted on the level grass above the sea- 
shore, he halted abruptly ; then turned and en- 
tered, We followed, Constantine’s supporters 
bringing him also with us. We passed through 
the large lower room and out of the house again 
into an enclosed yard bounded on the seaward 
side by a low stone wall towards which the ground 
sloped rapidly. Here Demetri stopped. 

By my oath,” said he, and as God hears me ! 
I knew not who this woman was ; but last night 
Vlacho bade me come with him to the cottage 
on the hill, and, if he called me, I was to come 
and help him to carry her to the house of my 
Lord Constantine. He called, and I, coming with 


The Last Card, 


20 J 

Kortes, found Vlacho dead. Kortes would not 
suffer me to touch the lady, but bade me stay 
with Vlacho. But when Kortes was gone and 
Vlacho dead, I ran and told my Lord what had 
happened. My Lord was greatly disturbed and 
bade me come with him ; so we came together to 
the town, and passed together by the guard- 
house.'' 

Lies, foul lies," cried Constantine ; but they 
bade him be quiet, and Demetri continued in a 
composed voice : 

" There Kortes watched ; my Lord asked him 
whom he held prisoner ; and when he heard that 
it was the Englishman, he sought to prevail on 
Kortes to deliver him up ; but Kortes would not 
without the command of the Lady Euphrosyne. 
Then my Lord said, ^ Have you no other prisoner, 
Kortes ? ' Kortes answered, ‘ There is a woman 
here whom we found in the cottage ; but you gave 
me no orders concerning her, my Lord, neither 
you, nor the Lady of the island.' ‘ I care noth- 
ing about her,' said my Lord with a shrug of his 
shoulders, and he and I turned away and walked 
some paces up the street. Then, at my Lord's 
bidding, I crouched down with him in the shadow 
of a house and waited. Presently, when the 
clock had struck two, we saw Kortes come out 
from the guard-house ; and the woman was with 
him. Now we were but fifty feet from them, and 


2o8 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


the wind was blowing from them to us, and I 
heard what the lady said/’ 

It happened as he says,'’ interrupted Kortes 
in a grave tone. I promised secrecy, but I will 
speak now." 

‘‘‘I must go to the Lady Euphrosyne,’ said 
she to Kortes," continued Demetri. ‘ I have 
something to say to her.’ Kortes answered, 
‘ She is lodging at the house of the priest. It is 
the tenth house on the left hand as you mount 
the hill.’ She thanked him, and he turned back 
into the guard-house, and we saw no more of 
him. The lady came slowly and fearfully up the 
road ; my Lord beside me laughed gently, and 
twisted a silk scarf in his hand ; there was no- 
body in the street except my Lord, the lady, and 
me. And as she went by, my Lord sprang out 
on her, and twisted the scarf across her mouth 
before she could cry out. Then he and I lifted her, 
and carried her swiftly down the street ; we came 
here, to Vlacho’s inn ; the door was open, for 
Vlacho had gone out ; it had not yet become 
known that he would never return. We carried 
her swiftly through the house, and brought her 
where we stand now, and laid her on the ground ; 
my Lord tied her hands and her feet, so that she 
lay still ; her mouth was already gagged. Then 
my Lord drew me aside, and took five pieces of 
gold from his purse, and said, looking into my eyes, 



I ■ 






The Last Card* 


209 


^ Is it enough?' I understood, and said, ‘It is 
enough, my Lord,' and he pressed my hand and left 
me, without going again near the woman. And I 
having put the five pieces in my purse, drew my 
knife from its sheath and came and stood over 
the woman, looking how I might best strike the 
blow. She was gagged and tied, and lay motion- 
less. But the night was bright, and I saw her 
eyes fixed on mine. I stood long by her with my 
knife in my hand ; then I knelt down by her to 
strike. But her eyes burned into my heart, and 
suddenly I seemed to hear Satan by my side, 
chuckling and whispering, ‘ Strike, Demetri, 
strike ! Art thou not damned already ? Strike ! ' 
And I did not dare to look to the right or the 
left, for I felt the fiend by me. So I shut my 
eyes and grasped my knife ; but the lady's eyes 
drew mine open again, although I struggled to 
keep them shut. Now many devils seemed to be 
round me ; and they were gleeful, saying, ‘ Oh, 
he is ours! Yes, Demetri is ours. He will do 
this thing and then surely he is ours ! ' Suddenly 
I sobbed; and when my sob came, a gleam 
lighted the lady’s eyes ; her eyes looked like the 
eyes of the Blessed Virgin in the church ; I could 
not strike her. I flung down my knife, and fell 
to sobbing. As I sobbed the noise of the devils 
ceased ; and I seemed to hear instead a voice 
from above that said to me, very softly, ‘ Have 


210 


Phroso: A Romance# 


I died to keep thy soul alive, and thou thyself 
wouldst kill it, Demetri ? ' I know not if any one 
spoke ; but the night was very still, and I was 
afraid, and I cried low, ‘ Alas, I am a sinner ! ' 
But the voice said, ‘ Sin no more/ And the eyes 
of the lady implored me. But then they closed, 
and I saw that she had fainted. And I raised 
her gently in my arms and carried her across this 
piece of ground where we stand.*’ 

He ended, and stood for a moment silent and 
motionless ; none of us spoke. 

I took her,” said he, there, where the wall 
ends ; for I knew that Vlacho had his larder 
there. The door of the larder was locked, but I 
set the lady down and returned and took my 
knife from the ground, and I forced the lock and 
took her in, and laid her on the floor of the larder. 
Then I returned to the house, and called to 
Panayiota, Vlacho’s daughter, with whom I was 
acquainted ; when she came I charged her to 
watch the lady till I came again, saying that 
Vlacho had bidden me bring her here ; for I 
meant to return in a few hours and carry the 
lady to some place of safety if I could find one. 
Panayiota, fearing Vlacho, and having an affec- 
tion for me, promised faithfully to keep the lady 
safe. Then I ran after my Lord, and found him 
at the house, and told him that the deed was 
done, and that I had hidden the body here ; and I 


The Last Card. 


SIX 


* 




craved leave to return and make a grave for the 
body or carry it to the sea. But he said, ‘ It will 
be soon enough in the evening. We shall be quit 
of troubles by the evening. Does any one know ? ’ 
I answered rashly, ‘ Panayiota knows.' And he 
was enraged, fearing Panayiota would betray us ; 
but when he heard that she and I were lovers, he 
was appeased ; yet I could not find means to 
leave him and return to the lady." 

Demetri ended : Phroso, without a look at any 
one of us, stepped lightly to the spot he had 
described. There was a low hut there, with a 
stout wooden door. Phroso knocked on it, but 
there came no answer. She beckoned to Kortes, 
and he, coming, wrenched open the door, which 
seemed to have been fastened by some make- 
shift arrangement. Kortes disappeared for an 
instant ; then he came out again and motioned 
with his hand. We crowded round the door, I 
among the first. There, indeed, was a strange 
sight. For on the floor, propped against the 
side of the hut, sat a buxom girl ; her eyes were 
closed, her lips parted, and she breathed in 
heavy regular breaths; Panayiota had watched 
faithfully all night, and now slept at her post. 
Yet her trust was not betrayed ; on her lap rested 
the head of the lady whom Demetri had not 
found it in his heart to kill ; the bonds with 
which she had been bound lay on the floor by 


212 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


her ; and she also, pale and with shadowed rings 
about her eyes, slept the sleep of utter exhaustion 
and weariness. We stood looking at the strange 
sight — a sudden gleam of peace and homely 
kindness breaking across the dark cloud of angry 
passions. 

Hush ! said Phroso very softly : she stepped 
forward and fell on her knees by the sleeping 
woman, and she lightly kissed Constantine’s wife 
on the brow. “ Praise be to God ! ” said Phroso 
softly, and kissed her again. 


< . i ■ ( 



CHAPTER XIL 
Law and Orden 

At last the whirlgig seemed to have taken a 
turn in my favour, the revolutions of the wheel 
at last to have brought my fortune uppermost. 
For the sight of Francesca in Panayiota’s arms 
came pat in confirmation of the story wrung 
from Demetri by the power of his oath, and his 
“ Behold ! was not needed to ensure acceptance 
for his testimony. From women rose compas- 
sionate murmurs, from men angry growlings 
which expressed, while they strove to hide, the 
shamefaced emotions that the helpless woman’s 
narrow escape created. Her salvation must bring 
mine with it : for it was the ruin of her husband 
and my enemy. 

Kortes and another dragged Constantine Ste- 
fanopoulos forward till he stood within two or 
three yards of his wife ; none interposed on his 
behalf or resented the rough pressure of Kortes’s 
compelling hand. And even as he was set there, 
opposite the women, they, roused by the subdued 
stir of the excited throng, awoke. First into one 


214 


Phroso: A Romance. 


another’s eyes, then round upon us, came their 
startled glances; then Francesca leaped with a 
cry to her feet, ran to me, and threw herself on 
her knees before me, crying, “ You’ll save me, 
my lord, you’ll save me?” Demetri hung his 
head in sullen half-contrition mingled with an 
unmistakable satisfaction in his religious piety; 
Constantine bit and licked his thin lips, his fists 
tight clenched, his eyes darting furtively about 
in search of friends or in terror of avengers. 
And Phroso said, in her soft clear tones, — 

‘‘ There is no more need of fear, for the truth 
is known.” 

Her eyes, though they would not meet mine, 
rested long in tender sympathy on the woman 
who still knelt at my feet. Here indeed she 
remained till Phroso came forward and raised 
her, while the old priest lifted his voice in brief 
thanks to heaven for the revelation wrought 
under the sanction of the Holy Saint. For my- 
self, I gave a long sigh of relief ; the strain 
had been on me now for many hours, and it tires 
a man to be knocking all day long at the door 
of death. Yet almost in the instant that the 
concern for my own life left me (that is a thing 
terribly apt to fill a man’s mind) my thoughts 
turned to other troubles: to my friends, who 
were — I knew not where ; to Phroso, who had 
said — I scarcely knew what. 


Law and Order* 


215 


Suddenly, striking firm and loud across the 
murmurs and the threats that echoed round the 
ring in half-hushed voices, came Kortes's tones. 

“And this man? What of him?’* he asked, 
his hand on Constantine’s shaking shoulder. 
“For he has done all that the stranger declared 
of him : he has deceived our Lady Euphrosyne ; 
he has sought to kill this lady here ; we have it 
from his own mouth that he slew the old Lord, 
though he knew well that the old Lord had 
yielded.’' 

Constantine’s wife turned swiftly to the 
speaker. 

“ Did he kill the old Lord ? ” she asked. “ He 
told me that it was Spiro who struck him in the 
heat of the brawl.” 

“Aye, Spiro or Vlacho, or whom you will,” 
said Kortes with a shrug. “ There was no pov- 
erty of lies in his mouth.” 

But the old feeling was not dead, and one or 
two again murmured, — 

“ The old Lord sold the island.” 

“Did he die for that?” cried Francesca scorn- 
fully. “ Or was it not in truth I who brought 
him to death? ” 

There was a movement of surprised interest, 
and all bent their eyes on her, 

“ Yes,” she went on, “ I think I doomed him to 
that death when I went and told him my story, 


2i6 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


seeking his protection. Constantine found me 
with him, and heard him greet me as his nephew’s 
wife, on the afternoon of the day that the deed 
was done. Can this man here deny it ? Can he 
deny that the old Lord was awaiting the return 
of the Lady Euphrosyne to tell her of the thing, 
when his mouth was shut forever by the stroke ? ” 
This disclosure, showing a new and vile motive 
for what Constantine had tried to play off as a 
pardonable excess of patriotism, robbed him of 
his last defenders. He seemed to recognise his 
plight ; his eyes ceased to canvass possible 
favour, and dropped to the ground in dull de- 
spair. There was not a man now to raise a voice 
or a hand for him ; their anger at having been 
made his dupes and his tools sharpened the edge 
of their hatred. To me his wife’s words caused 
no wonder, for I had from the first believed that 
some secret motive had nerved Constantine’s 
arm, and that he had taken advantage of the 
islanders’ mad folly for his own purposes. What 
that motive was stood out now clear and ob- 
vious. It explained his act and abundantly 
justified the distrust and fear of him which I 
had perceived in his wife’s mind when first I 
talked with her on the hill. But she, St-iving 
launched her fatal bolt, turned her eye? away 
again, and, laying her hand in Phroso’f stood 
silent. 


Law ancJ Order* 


217 

Kortes, appearing to take the lead now by 
general consent, — for Phroso made no sign, — 
looked round on his fellow-countrymen, seeking 
to gather their decision from their faces. He 
found the guidance and agreement that he 
sought. 

** We may not put any man to death on Saint 
Tryphon’s day,’* said he. 

The sentence was easy to read, for all its indi- 
rectness. The islanders understood it, and ap- 
proved in a deep stern murmur ; the women fol- 
lowed it, and their faces grew pale and solemn ; 
the criminal missed nothing of its implied doom 
and tottered under the strong hands that now 
rather supported than iinprisoned him. ‘‘Not 
on this day, but to-morrow at break of day.” 
The voice of the people had spoken by the 
mouth of Kortes, and none pleaded for mercy or 
delay. 

“I will take him to the guard-house and keep 
him,” said Kortes; and the old priest murmured 
low, “ God have mercy on him.” Then with a 
swift dart Phroso sprang towards Kortes : her 
hands were clasped, her eyes prayed him to seek 
some ground of mercy, some pretext for a lighter 
sentence. She said not a word, but every one of 
us read her eloquent prayer. Kortes looked 
round again : the faces about him were touched 
with a tenderness that they had not worn before ; 


2i 8 Phroso: A Romance# 

but the tenderness was for the advocate, — nO 
part of it reached the criminal. Kortes shook 
his head gravely : Phroso turned to the woman 
who had comforted her before, and hid her face. 
Constantine, seeing the last hope gone, swayed 
and fell into the arms of the man who, with 
Kortes, held him, uttering a long, low moan of 
fear and despair, terrible to listen to, even from 
lips guilty as his. Thus was Constantine Stefan- 
opoulos tried for his life in the yard of Vlacho's 
inn in Neopalia : the trial ended, he was carried 
out into the street on his way to the prison, and 
we, one and all, in dead silence, followed. The 
yard was emptied, and the narrow street choked 
with the attending crowd which followed Kortes 
and his prisoner till the doors of the guard-house 
closed on them. 

Then, for the first time that day, Phroso’s eyes 
sought mine in a rapid glance, in which I read 
joy for my safety ; but the glance fell as I an- 
swered it, and she turned away in confusion. Her 
avowal, forgotten for an instant in gladness, re- 
curred to her mind and dyed her cheeks red. 
Averting my eyes from her, I looked down the 
slope of the street towards the sea. The thought 
of her and of nothing else was in my mind. 

Ah, my island ! My sweet, capricious island ! 

A sudden uncontrollable exclamation burst 
from my lips and, raising my hand, I pointed to 


Law and Order. 


219 


the harbour and the blue water beyond. Every 
head followed the direction of my outstretched 
finger : every pair of eyes was focussed on the 
object that held mine. A short, breathless 
silence — a momentary wonder — then, shrill or 
deep, low in fear or loud in excitement, broke 
forth the cry, — 

‘‘ The Governor! The Governor 1 ” 

For a gunboat was steaming slowly into the 
harbour of Neopalia, and the Turkish flag flew 
over her. 

The sight wrought transformation. In a mo- 
ment, as it seemed to me, the throng round me 
melted away : the street grew desolate ; the 
houses on either side swallowed their eager oc- 
cupants; Kortes alone, with his prisoner, knew 
nothing of the fresh event ; Phroso and Francesca 
only stood their ground : Demetri was slinking 
hastily away : the old priest was making for his 
home ; the shutters of dead Vlacho’s inn came 
down, and girls bustled to and fro, preparing 
food. I stood unwatched, unheeded, apparently 
forgotten ; festival, tumult, trial, condemnation 
seemed past like visions ; the flag that flew from 
the gunboat brought back modern days, the 
prose of life, and ended the wild poetic drama that 
we had played and a second One-eyed Alexander 
might worthily have sung. How had the Gov- 
ernor come before his time, and why ? 


Phfoso: A Romance# 

^ Denny ! ’’ I cried aloud in inspiration and 
hope, and I ran as though the foul fiends whom 
Demetri had heard were behind me. Down the 
steep street and on to the jetty I ran ; as I ar- 
rived there the gunboat also reached it, and, a 
moment later, Denny was shaking my hand till 
it felt like falling off, while from the deck of the 
boat Hogvardt and Watkins were waving wild 
congratulations. 

Denny had jumped straight from deckto jetty : 
but now a gangway was thrust out, and I passed 
with him on to the deck, and presented myself 
with a low bow to a gentleman who stood there. 
He was a tall, full-bodied man, apparently some- 
what under fifty years old ; his face was heavy 
and broad, in complexion dark and sallow ; he 
wore a short black beard ; his lips were full, his 
eyes acute and small. I did not like the look of 
him much ; but he meant law and order and civ- 
ilisation, and an end to the wild ways of Neopa- 
lia. For this, as Denny whispered to me, was no 
less a man than the Governor himself, Mouraki 
Pasha. I bowed again yet lower; for I stood 
before a man of whom report had much to tell, — 
something good, much bad, all interesting. 

He spoke to me in low, slow, suave tones, em- 
ploying the Greek language, which he spoke 
fluently, although as a foreigner. For Mouraki 
was by birth an Armenian. 


Law and Order. 


221 


You must have much to tell me, Lord Wheat- 
ley,*' he said with a smile. ‘‘ But first I must as- 
sure you with what pleasure I find you alive and 
unhurt. Be confident that you shall not want re- 
dress for the wrongs which these turbulent ras- 
cals have inflicted on you. I know these men of 
Neopalia: they are hard men; but they also 
know me, and that I in my turn can be a hard 
man if need be." His looks did not belie his 
words, as his sharp eye travelled with an ominous 
glance over the little town by the harbour. 
‘‘ But you will wish to speak with your friends 
first," he went on courteously. “May I ask 
your attention in half-an-hour*s time from now ? " 
I bowed obedience : the great man turned 
away : and Denny caught me by the arm, crying, 
“ Now, old man, tell us all about it." 

“ Wait a bit," said I rather indignantly. “Just 
you tell me all about it." ^ 

But Denny was firmer than I, and my ad- 
ventures came before his. I told them all faith- 
fully, save one incident : it may perhaps be 
guessed which. Denny and the other two lis- 
tened with frequent exclamations of surprise, 
and danced with exultation at the final worsting 
of Constantine Stefanopoulos. 

“It’s all right," said Denny reassuringly. 
** Old Mouraki will hang him just the same." 

“ Now it’s your turn," said I. 


222 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


‘‘Oh, our story's nothing. We just got 
through that old drain, and came out by the sea, 
and all the fishermen had gone off to the fishing- 
grounds, except one old chap they left behind to 
look after their victuals. Well, we didn’t know 
how to get back to you, and the old chap told 
us that the whole place was alive with armed ruf- 
fians, so 

“Just tell the story properly, will you?” said 
I sternly. 

At last, by pressing and much questioning, I 
got the story from them, and here it is ; for it 
was by no means so ordinary a matter as Denny’s 
modesty would have had me think. When the 
consternation caused by the cutting of our rope 
had passed away, a hurried council decided them 
to press on with all speed, and they took their 
way along a narrow, damp, and slippery ledge of 
rock which encircled the basin. So perilous did 
the track seem that Hogvardt insisted on their 
being roped as though for a mountaineering as- 
cent, and thus they continued the journey. The 
first opening from the basin they found without 
much difficulty. Now the rope proved useful, 
for Denny, passing through first, fell headlong 
into space and most certainly would have per- 
ished but for the support his companions gave 
him. The track turned at right angles to the 
left, and Denny had walked straight over the 


Law and Order. 


223 


edge of the rock. Sobered by this accident, and 
awake to their peril (it must be remembered that 
they had no lantern) they groped their way 
slowly and cautiously, up and down, in and out. 
Hours passed. Watkins, less accustomed than 
the others to a physical strain, could hardly lift 
his feet. All this while the dim glimmer which 
Denny had seen retreated before them, appearing 
to grow no nearer for all their efforts. They 
walked, as they found afterwards, — or walked, 
crawled, scrambled and jumped, — for eleven 
hours, their haste and anxiety allowing no pause 
for rest. Then they seemed to see the end, for 
the winding, tortuous track appeared at last to 
make up its mind. It took a straight downward 
line, and, Denny’s hard-learned caution vanishing, 
he started along it at a trot and with a hearty 
hurrah. He tempted fate. The slope became 
suddenly a drop. This time all three fell with a 
splash and a thud into a deep pool, one oh the 
top of the other. Here they scrambled for some 
minutes, Watkins coming very near to finding an 
end of the troubles of his eventful service. But 
Denny and Hogvardt managed to get him out. 
The path began again. Content with its last 
freak, it pursued now a business-like way ; the 
glimmer grew to a gleam ; the gleam spread into 
a glad blaze. ‘‘The sea, the sea ! ” cried Denny. 
A last spurt landed them in a cave that bordered 


224 t^hrosox A Komance# 

on the blue waters. What they did on that I 
could by no means persuade them to tell ; but 
had I been there I should have thanked God and 
shaken hands ; and thus, I dare say, did they. 
And besides that, they lay there, dog-tired and 
beaten, for an hour or more, in one of those de- 
spondent fits that assail even brave men, making 
sure that I was dead or taken, and that their own 
chances of escape were small, and, since I was 
dead or taken, hardly worth the seeking. 

They were roused by an old man, who sud- 
denly entered the cave, bearing a bundle of sticks 
in his arms. At sight of them he dropped his 
load and turned to fly ; but they were on him 
in an instant, seizing him and crying to know 
who he was. He had as many questions for 
them ; and when he learned who they were and 
how they had come he raised his hands in 
wonder, and told Hogvardt, who alone could 
make him understand, that their fears were well 
grounded. He had met aNeopalian but an hour 
since, and the talk in all the island was of how 
the stranger had killed Vlacho, and been taken by 
Kortes, and would die on the next day ; for this 
was the early morning of the feast-day. Denny 
was for a dash ; but a dash meant certain death. 
Watkins was ready for the venture, though the 
poor fellow could hardly crawl. Hogvardt 
held firm to the chance that more cautious mea- 


Law and Otdcti 


225 


sures gave. The old man’s comrades were away 
at their fishing-grounds, ten miles out at sea ; but 
he had a boat down on the beach. Thither they 
went, and set out under the fisherman’s guidance, 
pulling in desperate perseverance, with numb, 
weary limbs, under the increasing heat of the 
sun. But their wills asked too much of their 
bodies. Watkins dropped his oar with a groan; 
Denny’s moved weakly and uselessly through 
the water that hardly stirred under its blade; 
Hogvardt at last flung himself into the stern with 
one groan of despair. The old fisherman cast 
resigned eyes up to heaven, and the boat tossed 
motionless on the water. Thus they lay while I 
fought my duel with Constantine Stefanopoulos 
on the other side of Neopalia. 

Then, while they were still four miles from the 
fishing-fleet where lay their only known chance 
of succour for me or for themselves, there came 
suddenly to their incredulous eyes a shape on 
the sea and a column of smoke. Denny’s spring 
forward went near to capsizing the boat. Oars 
were seized again; weariness fled before hope; 
the gunboat came in viev/, growing clear and 
definite. She moved quickly towards them ; 
they slowly, yet eagerly, to her ; the interval 
grew less and less. They shouted before they 
could be heard, and shouted still in needless 
caution long after they had been heard. A boat 


226 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


put out to them ; they were taken on board ; 
their story heard with shrugs of wonder. Mou- 
raki could not be seen. I’ll see him ! ” cried 
Denny, and Hogvardt plied the recalcitrant 
officer with smooth entreaties. The life of a 
man was at stake ! But he could not be seen. 
The life of an Englishman ! His Excellency 
slept through the heat of the day. The life 
of an English lord! His Excellency would 

be angry, but ! The contents of Denny’s 

pocket, wild boasts of my power and position (I 
was a favourite at Court, and so forth), at last 
clinched the matter. His Excellency should 
be roused ; heaven knew what he would say, 
but he should be roused. He went to Neopalia 
next week ; now he was sailing past it, to inspect 
another island ; perhaps he would alter the 
order of his voyage. He was fond of English- 
men ; it was a great lord, was it not? So, at last, 
when Hogvardt was at his tongue’s end, and 
Denny almost mad with rage, Mouraki was 
roused ; he heard their story, and pondered on 
it with leisurely strokings of his beard and keen, 
long glances of his sharp eyes. At last came the 
word, ‘‘To the island then!” and a cheer from 
the three which Mouraki suffered with patient, 
uplifted brows. Thus came Mouraki to Neopa- 
lia ; thus came, as I hoped, an end to our troubles. 

More than the half-hour which the Governor 


Law anci Ot6cu 


227 


had given me passed swiftly in the narrative ; 
then came Mouraki’s summons and my story to 
him, heard with courteous impassivity, received 
at its end with plentiful assurances of redress for 
me and punishment for the islanders. 

The island shall be restored to you,*' said he. 
‘‘You shall have every compensation. Lord 
Wheatley. These Neopalians shall learn their 
lesson." 

“I want nothing but justice on Constantine," 
said I. “The island I have given back." 

“ That goes for nothing," said he. “ It was 
under compulsion : we shall not acknowledge it. 
The island is certainly yours. Your title has 
been recognised : you could not transfer it with- 
out the consent of my Government." 

I did not pursue the argument ; if Mouraki 
chose to hand the island back to me, I supposed 
that I could, after such more or less tedious 
forms as were necessary, restore it to Phroso. 
For the present the matter was of small moment ; 
for Mouraki was there with his men, and the 
power of the Lord — or Lady — of Neopalia in 
abeyance. The island was at the feet of the 
Governor. 

Indeed such was its attitude ; and great was 
the change in the islanders when, in the cool of 
the evening, I walked up the street by Mouraki's 
side, escorted by soldiers and protected by the 


22 $ 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


great gun of the gunboat commanding the town. 
There were many women to watch us, few men, 
and these unarmed, with downcast eyes and stu- 
dious meekness of bearing. Mouraki seemed to 
detect my surprise. 

They made a disturbance here three years 
ago,'' said he, and I came. They have not for- 
gotten." 

What did you do to them ? " I made bold 
to ask. 

What was necessary," he said ; and, — They 
are not Armenians," added the Armenian Gov- 
ernor with a smile which meant much ; among 
other things, as I took it, that no tiresome Eng- 
lish demanded fair trial for riotous Neopalians. 

‘‘ And Constantine ? " said I. I hope that I 
was not too vindictive. 

It is the feast of Saint Tryphon," said^his Ex- 
cellency with another smile. 

We were passing the guard-house now. An 
officer and five men fell out from the ranks of 
our escort and took their stand by its doors. We 
passed on, leaving Constantine in this safe keep- 
ing; and Mouraki, turning to me, said, ‘‘ I must 
ask you for hospitality. As Lord of the island, 
you enjoy the right of entertaining me." 

I bowed. We turned into the road that led to 
the old grey house ; when we were a couple of 
hundred yards from it, I saw Phroso coming out 


Law and Ordcu 


229 


of the door. She walked rapidly towards us, and 
paused a few paces from the Governor, making a 
deep obeisance to him and bidding him welcome 
to her poor house in stately phrases of deference 
and loyalty. Mouraki was silent, surveying her 
with a slight smile. She grew confused under 
his wordless smiling ; her greetings died away. 
At last he spoke, in slow deliberate tones : 

‘‘ Is this the lady,'* said he, ‘‘ who raises a tumult 
and resists my master’s will, and seeks to kill a 
lord who comes peaceably and by lawful right to 
take what is his 

I believe I made a motion as though to spring 
forward. Mouraki’s expressive face displayed a 
marvelling question ; did I mean such insolence 
as lay in interrupting him ? I fell back ; a pub- 
lic remonstrance could earn only a public rebuff. 

^‘Strange are the ways of Neopalia,” said he, 
his gaze again on Phroso. 

‘‘ I am at your mercy, my lord,” she murmured. 

“ And what is this talk of your house ? What 
house have you ? I see here the house of this 
English lord, where he will receive me cour- 
teously. Where is your house ? ” 

‘‘The house belongs to whom you will, my 
lord,” she said. “Yet I have dared to busy my- 
self in making it ready for you.” 

By this time I was nearly at boiling-point, but 
still I controlled myself; I rejoiced that Denny 


230 


Phroso: A Romance# 


was not there, he and the others having resumed 
possession of the yacht, and arranged to sleep 
there, in order to leave more room for Mouraki’s 
accommodation. Phroso stood in patient sub- 
mission; Mouraki’s eyes travelled over her from 
head to foot. 

The other woman ? ” he asked abruptly. 
‘‘Your cousin’s wife — where is she? ” 

“ She is at the cottage on the hill, my lord, 
with a woman to attend on her.” 

After another pause he motioned with his 
hand to Phroso to take her place by him, and 
thus we three walked up to the house. It was 
alive now with women and men, and there was a 
bustle of preparation for the great man. 

Mouraki sat down in the arm-chair which I 
had been accustomed to use, and, addressing an 
officer who seemed to be his aide-de-camp^ issued 
quick orders for his own comfort and entertain- 
ment ; then he turned to me and said civilly 
enough, — 

“ Since you seem reluctant to act as host, you 
shall be my guest while I am here.” 

I murmured thanks. He glanced at Phroso 
and waved his hand in dismissal. She drew 
back, curtseying, and I saw her mount the stairs 
to her room. Mouraki bade me sit down, and 
his orderly brought him cigarettes. He gave me 
one and we began to smoke, — Mouraki watching 


Law and Order# 


231 


the coiling rings, I furtively studying his face. I 
was in a rage at his treatment of Phroso. But 
the man interested me. I thought that he was 
now considering great matters : the life of Con- 
stantine, perhaps, or the penalties that he should 
lay on the people of Neopalia. Yet even these 
would seem hardly great to him, who had moved 
in the world of truly great affairs, and was in his 
present post rather by a temporary loss of favour 
than because it was adequate to his known abili- 
ties. With such thoughts I studied hin: as he 
sat smoking silently. 

Well, man is very human, and great men are 
often even more human than other men. For 
when Mouraki saw that we were alone, when he 
had finished his cigarette, flung it away and 
taken another, he observed to me, obviously 
summarising the result of those meditations to 
which my fancy had imparted such loftiness, — 

“Yes, I don’t know that I ever saw a hand 
somer girl.” 

There was nothing to say but one thing, and I 
said it. 

“No more did I, your Excellency,” said I. 

But I was not pleased with the expression of 
Mouraki’s eyes; the contentment induced in me 
by the safety of my friends, by my own escape, 
and by the end of Constantine’s ill-used power, 
was suddenly clouded as I sat and looked at the 


232 


Phfoso: A RomancCi 


baffling face and subtle smile of the Governor. 
What was it to him whether Phroso were a hand- 
some girl or not ? 

And I suppose I might just as well have 
added, — What was it to me ? 


CHAPTER Xm* 

The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha# 

At the dinner-table Mouraki proved a charm- 
ing companion. His official reserve and pride 
vanished ; he called me by my name simply, and 
extorted a like mode of address from my modesty. 
He professed rapture at meeting a civilised and 
pleasant companion in such an out-of-the-way 
place ; he postponed the troubles and problems 
of Neopalia in favour of a profusion of amusing 
reminiscences and pointed anecdotes. He gave 
me a delightful evening, and bade me the most 
cordial of good-nights. I did not know whether 
his purpose had been to captivate or merely to 
analyse me; he had gone near to the former, 
and I did not doubt that he had succeeded 
entirely in the latter. Well, there was nothing I 
wanted to conceal — unless it might be something 
which I was still striving to conceal even from 
myself. 

I rose very early the next morning ; the Pasha 
was not expected to appear for two or three 
hours, and he had not requested my presence till 


^34 


Phroso: A Romance 


ten o’clock breakfast. I hastened off to the har- 
bour, boarded the yacht, enjoyed a merry cup of 
coffee and a glorious bathe with Denny. Denny 
was anxious to know my plans — whether I meant 
to return or to stay. The idea of departure was 
odious to me ; I enlarged on the beauties of the 
island, but Denny’s shrug insinuated a doubt of 
my candour. I declared that I saw no reason for 
going, but must be guided by the Pasha. 

‘‘Where’s the girl?” asked Denny abruptly. 

“ She’s up at the house,” I answered carelessly. 

“ Hum. Heard anything about Constantine 
being hanged ? ” 

“Not a word; Mouraki has not touched on 
business.” 

Denny had projected a sail, and was not turned 
from his purpose by my unwillingness to accom- 
pany him. Promising to meet him again in the 
evening, I took my way back up the street, where 
a day or two ago my life would have paid for my 
venturing, where now I was as safe as in Hyde 
Park. Women gave me civil greetings; the men 
did the like, or, at worst, ignored me. I saw the 
soldiers on guard at Constantine’s prison, and 
pursued my path to the house with a complacent 
smile. My island was beautiful that morning, 
and the blood flowed merrily in my veins. I 
thought of Phroso : where was the remorse which 
I vainly summoned ? 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha* 235 

Suddenly I saw Kortes before me, walking 
along slowly. He was relieved of his duty, then, 
and Constantine was no longer in his hands. 
Overtaking him, I began to talk. He listened for 
a little, and then raised his calm, honest eyes to 
mine. 

'‘A'nd the Lady Phroso?’' he said gently. 
^‘What of her?" 

I told him what I knew, softening the story of 
Mouraki's harshness. 

You have not spoken to her yet?" he asked. 
Then, coming a step nearer, he said, She shuns 
you perhaps? " 

‘‘ I don’t know," said I, feeling embarrassed 
under the man’s direct gaze. 

It is natural, but it will last only till she has 
seen you once. I pray you not to linger, my 
lord. For she suffers shame at having told her 
love, even though it was to save you. It is hard 
for a maiden to speak unasked." 

I leaned my back against the rocky bank by 
theVoad. 

Lose no time in telling her your love, my 
lord," he urged. ‘‘ It may be that she guesses, 
but her shame will trouble her till she hears it 
from your lips. Seek her, — seek her without de- 
lay." 

I had forgotten my triumph over Constantine 
and the beauty of the island ; I felt my eyes 


^ 3 ^ Phtoso: A Romance* 

drop before Kortes's look. But I shrugged my 
shoulders, saying carelessly, — 

‘‘ It was only a friendly device the Lady Phroso 
played to save me. She doesn’t really love me. 
It was a trick. But I’ll thank her for it heartily; 
it was of great help to me, and a hard thing for 
her to do.” 

It was no trick. You know it was none. 
Wasn’t the love in every tone of her voice ? Isn’t 
it in every glance of her eyes when she is with 
you — and most when she won’t look at you ? ” 

‘‘ How come you to read her looks so well?” 
I asked. 

“ From studying them deeply,” said he simply. 

I do not know if I love her, my lord ; she is so 
much above me that my thoughts have not 
dared to fly to the height. But I would die for 
her, and I love no other. To me, you, my lord, 
should be the happiest, proudest man alive. 
Pray speak to her soon, my lord. My sister, 
whom you saw hold her in her arms, would have 
made me sure if I had doubted. The lady mur- 
murs your name in her sleep.” 

A sudden irresistible exultation took hold of 
me. I think it turned my face red, for Kortes 
smiled, saying, Ah, you believe now, my 
lord ! ” 

'‘Believe!” I cried. "No, I don’t believe. 
A thousand times, no ! I don’t believe ! ” For 


The Smiles of Mourafci Pasha# 237 

I crushing that exultation now as a man 
crushes the foulest temptings. 

A puzzled look invaded Kortes’s eyes; there 
was silence between us for some moments. 

‘‘ It’s absurd,” said I in weak protest. She 
has known me only a few days, — only a few hours 
rather, — and there were other things to think of 
then than love-making.” 

Love,” said he, is made most readily when 
a man does not think of it, and a stout arm 
serves a suitor better than soft words. You 
fought against her and for her ; you proved 
yourself a man before her eyes. Fear not, my 
lord ; she loves you.” 

Fear not ! ” I exclaimed in a low, bitter 
whisper. 

“She said it herself,” continued Kortes. “As 
her life, and more.” 

“ Hold your tongue, man ! ” I cried fiercely. 
“ In the devil’s name, what has it to do with 
you ? ” 

A great wonder showed on his face, then a 
doubting fear ; he came closer to me and whis- 
pered so low that I hardly heard : 

“ What ails you ? Is it not well that she 
should love you ? 

“ Let me alone,” I cried ; “ I’ll not answei 
your questions.” Why was the fellow to cross- 
bxamine me ? Ah, there’s the guilty man’s old 


238 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


question ; he loves a fine mock indignatioif, and 
hugs it to his heart. 

Kortes drew back a pace and bowed, as though 
in apology ; but there was no apology in the 
glance he fixed on me. I would not look him in 
the face. I drew myself up as tall as I could, 
and put on my haughtiest air. If he could have 
seen how small I felt inside ! 

Enough, Kortes,” said I, with a lordly air. 
‘‘ No doubt your intentions are good, but you 
forget what is becoming from you to me.” 

He was not awed ; and I think he perceived 
some of the truth — not all; for he said, “You 
made her love you ; that does not happen unless 
a man’s own acts help it.” 

“ Do girls never rush uninvited on love, then ? ” 
I sneered. 

“ Some, perhaps, but she would not,” he 
answered steadily. 

He said no more; I nodded to him and set 
forward on my way. He bowed again slightly, 
and stood still where he was, watching me. I 
felt his eyes on me after we had parted. I was 
in a very tumult of discomfort. The man had 
humiliated me to the ground. I hoped against 
hope that he was wrong ; and again, in helpless 
self-contradiction, my heart cried out, insisting 
on its shameful joy because he was right. Right 
or wrong, wrong or right, what did it matter? 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha# 239 

Either way now lay misery, either way now lay 
a struggle that I shrank from and abhorred. 

I was somewhat delayed by this interview, and 
when I arrived at the house I found Mouraki 
already at breakfast. He apologised for not 
having awaited my coming, saying, I have 
transacted much business. Oh, Tve not been in 
bed all the time ! And I grew hungry. I have 
been receiving some reports on the state of the 
island.” 

It’s quiet enough now,” I replied. ‘‘Your 
arrival has had a most calming effect.” 

“Yes, they know me,” he rejoined. “They 
are very much afraid, for they think I shall be 
hard on them. They remember my last visit.” 

He made no reference to Constantine, and, 
although I wondered rather at his silence, I did 
not venture again to question him. I wished 
that I knew what had happened on his last visit. 
A man with a mouth like Mouraki’s might cause 
anything to happen. 

“ I shall keep them in suspense a little while,"' 
he pursued, smiling. “ It’s good for them. Oh, 
by the way, Wheatley, you may as well take this. 
Or shall I tear it up?” And suddenly he held 
out to me the document which I had written and 
given to Phroso when I restored the island to 
her. 

“ She gave you this ? ” I cried. 


240 


Phfoso; A Romance* 


‘‘ She ?” asked Mouraki with a smile of mock- 
ery. Is there, then, only one woman in the 
world ? ” he seemed to ask sneeringly. 

The Lady Euphrosyne, to whom I gave it,’* 
I explained with what dignity I could. 

“ The Lady Phroso, yes,” said he. Hang 
his ^ Phroso ! ’ ” thought 1.) ‘‘I had her before 

me this morning and made her give it up.” 

I can only give it back to her, you know.” 

My dear Wheatley, if you like to amuse 
yourself in that way, I can have no possible 
objection. Until, however, you obtain a firman, 
you will continue to be Lord of Neopalia and 
this Phroso no more than a very rebellious young 
lady. But you’ll enjoy a pleasant interview and 
no harm will be done. Give it back by all 
means.” He smiled again, shrugging his 
shoulders, and lit a cigarette. His manner was 
the perfection of polite, patient, gentlemanly 
contempt. 

“ It seems easier to get an island than to get 
rid of one,” said I, trying to carry off my annoy^ 
ance with a laugh. 

It is the case with so many things,” agreed 
Mouraki ; ‘‘ debts, diseases, enemies, wives, 

lovers.” 

There was a little pause before the last word, 
so slight that I could not tell whether it were 
intentional or not ; and I had learned to expect 


The Smiles of Moaraki Pasha# 241 

no enlightenment from Mouraki’s face or eyes. 
But he chose himself to solve the mystery this 
time. 

Do I touch delicate ground ? he asked. 
** Ah, my dear lord, I find from my reports that 
in the account you gave me of your experiences 
you let modesty stand in the way of candour. 
It was natural perhaps. I don’t blame you, since 
I have found out elsewhere what you omitted to 
tell me. Yet it was hardly a secret, since every- 
body in Neopalia knew it.’' 

I smoked my cigarette, feeling highly em- 
barrassed and very uncomfortable. 

‘‘And I am told," pursued Mouraki with his 
malicious smile, “ that the idea of a Wheatley. 
Stefanopoulos dynasty is by no means unpopu- 
lar. Constantine’s little tricks have disgusted 
them with him." 

“What are you going to do with him?" I 
asked, risking any offence now in order to turn 
the topic. 

“Do you really like jumping from subject to 
subject?" asked Mouraki plaintively. “I am, I 
suppose, a slow-minded Oriental, and it fatigues 
me horribly." 

I could have thrown my cigarette in his face 
with keen pleasure. 

“ It is for your Excellency to choose the topic," 
said I, restraining my fury. 


Phfoso: A Romance* 

Oh, don’t let us have ‘ Excellencies ’ when 
we’re alone together ! Indeed I congratulate 
you on your conquest. She is magnificent ; and 
it was charming of her to make her declaration. 
That’s what has pleased the islanders; they’re 
romantic savages, after all, and the chivalry of it 
touches them.” 

It must touch anybody,” said !• 

‘^Ah, I suppose so,” said Mouraki, flicking 
away his ash ; I questioned her a little about 
it this morning.” 

You questioned her?” For all I could do 
there was a question of anger in my voice. I 
heard it myself, and it did not escape my com- 
panion’s notice. His smile grew broader. 

Precisely. I have to consider everything,” 
said he. ‘‘I assure you, my dear Wheatley, 
that I did it in the most delicate manner pos- 
sible.” 

“ It couldn’t be done in a delicate manner.” 

I struggled,” said Mouraki, assuming his 
plaintive tone again and spreading out depreca- 
tory hands. 

Was Mouraki merely amusing himself with a 
little “chaff,” or had he a purpose? He seemed 
like a man who would have a purpose. I grew 
cool on the thought of it. 

“And did the lady answer your questions?” I 
^sked carelessly. 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha* 243 

‘‘Wouldn’t it be a treachery in me to tell you 
what she said?” countered Mouraki. 

“ I think not ; because there’s no doubt that 
the whole thing was only a good-natured device 
of hers.” 

“ Ah ! A very good-natured device indeed ! 
She must be an amiable girl,” smiled the Pasha. 
“ Precisely the sort of girl to make a man’s home 
happy.” 

“ She hasn’t much chance of marriage in Neo- 
palia,” said I. 

“ Heaven makes a way,” observed Mouraki 
piously. “ By-the-bye, the device seems to have 
imposed on our acquaintance Kortes.” 

“ Oh, perhaps,” I shrugged. “ He’s a little 
smitten himself, I think, and so very ready to be 
jealous.” 

“How discriminating!” murmured Mouraki 
admiringly. “ As a fact, my dear Wheatley, the 
lady said nothing. She chose to take offence.” 

“You surprise me!” I exclaimed with elabo- 
rate sarcasm. 

“ And wouldn’t speak. But her blushes were 
most lovely — yes, most lovely. I envied you, 
upon my word I did.” 

“ Since it’s not true ” 

“ Oh, a thing may be very pleasant to hear, even 
if it’s not true. Sincerity in love is an added 
charm, but not, my dear fellow, a necessity.” 


244 


Phroso : A Romance# 


A pause followed this reflection of the Pasha’s. 
Then he remarked, — 

After all, we mustn’t judge these people as 
we should judge ourselves. If Constantine 
hadn’t already a wife ” 

What ? ” I cried, leaping up. 

And perhaps that difficulty is not insupera- 
ble.” 

‘‘ He deserves nothing but hanging.” 

A reluctant wife is hardly better.” 

‘‘Of course you don’t mean it?” 

“ It seems to disturb you so much.” 

“ It’s a monstrous idea.” 

Mouraki laughed in quiet enjoyment of my 
excitement. 

“Then Kortes?” he suggested. 

“ He’s infinitely her inferior. Besides — forgive 
me — why is it your concern to marry her to any 
one?” 

“ In a single state she is evidently a danger to 
the peace of the island,” he answered with as- 
sumed gravity. “Now, your young friend ” 

, “ Oh, Denny’s a boy.” 

“You reject every one,” he said pathetically, 
and his eyes dwelt on me in amused scrutiny. 

“Your suggestions, my dear Pasha, seem 
hardly serious,” said I in a huff. He was too 
many for me, and I struggled in vain against be- 
traying my ruffled temper. 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha# 245 

Well, then, I will make two serious sugges- 
tions ; that is a handsome amende. And for the 
first yourself ! ” 

I waved my hand and gave an embarrassed 
laugh. 

“ You say nothing to that 

‘‘ Oughtn’t I to hear the alternative first?*’ 
Indeed it is only reasonable. Well, then, the 

alternative ” He paused, laughed, lit another 

cigarette. “ The alternative is myself,” said 

he. 

‘‘Still not serious!” I exclaimed, forcing a 
smile. 

“ Absolutely serious,” he asserted. “ I have 
the misfortune to be a widower, and for the 
second time, — so unkind is heaven. She is most 
charming. I have, perhaps, a position which 
would atone for some want of youth and ro- 
mantic attractions.” 

“ Of course, if she likes ” 

“ I don’t think she would persist in refusing,” 
said Mouraki with a thoughtful smile; and he 
went on, “ Three years ago, when I came here, 
she struck me as a beautiful child, one likely to 
become a beautiful woman. You see for your- 
self that I am not disappointed. My wife was 
alive at that time, but in bad health. Still I 
hardly thought seriously of it then, and the idea 
did not recur to me till I saw Phroso again. You 
look surprised.” 


246 


Phfosoj A Romance# 


‘^Well, I am surprised/' 

You don't think her attractive, then ? ” 

“ Frankly, that is not the reason for my sur- 
prise." 

‘‘ Shall I go on? You think me old? It is a 
young man's delusion, my dear Wheatley." 

Bear-baiting may have been excellent sport, — 
its defenders so declare, — but I do not remember 
that it was ever considered pleasant for the bear. 
I felt now much as the bear must have felt. I 
rose abruptly from the table. 

All these things require thought," said Mou- 
raki gently. “We will talk of them again this 
afternoon. I have a little business to do now." 

Saying this, he rose and leisurely took his way 
upstairs. I was left alone in the hall so familiar 
to me ; and my first thought was a regret that I 
was not again a prisoner there, with Constantine 
seeking my life, Phroso depending on my pro- 
tection, and Mouraki administering some other 
portion of his district. That condition of things 
had been, no doubt, rather too exciting to be 
pleasant ; but it had not made me harassed, 
wretched, humiliated, exasperated almost beyond 
endurance ; and such was the mood in which the 
two conversations of the morning left me. 

A light step sounded on the stair ; the figure 
that of all figures I least wished to see then, that 
I rejoiced to see more than any in the world be- 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha* 247 

sides, appeared before me. Phroso came down. 
She reached the floor of the hall and she saw me. 
For a long moment we each rested as we were. 
Then she stepped towards me, and I rose with a 
bow. She was very pale, but a smile came on 
her lips as she murmured a greeting to me and 
passed on. I should have done better to let her 
go. I rose and followed. On the marble pave- 
ment by the threshold I overtook her ; there we 
stood again, looking on the twinkling sea in the 
distance, as we had looked before. I was seeking 
what to say. 

‘‘ I must thank you,’’ I said, yet I can’t. It 
was magnificent.” 

The colour suddenly flooded her face. 

‘^You understood?” she murmured. ‘‘You 
understood why ? It seemed the only way. 
And I think it did help a little.” 

I bent down and kissed her hand. 

“ I don’t care whether it helped,” I said. “ It 
was the thing itself.” 

“ I didn’t care for them — the people — but 

when I thought what you would think ” She 

could not go on, but drew her hand, which she 
had left an instant in mine as though forgetful of 
it, suddenly away. 

“ I 1 knew, of course, that it was only a 

a stratagem,” said I. “ Oh, yes, I knew that 

directly.” 


248 


Phroso: A Romance* 


‘‘Yes/' whispered she, looking over the sea. 

“ Yes," said I, also looking over the sea. 

“You forgive it?" 

“ Forgive ! " My voice came low and husky. 
I did not see why such things should be laid on 
a man ; I did not know if I could endure them. 
Yet I would not have left her then for an angel’s 
crown. 

“And you will forget it? I mean, you ?" 

The whisper died into silence. 

“ So long as I live, I will not forget it," said I. 

Then, by a seemingly irresistible impulse that 
came upon both of us, we looked in one another’s 
eyes, — a long look that lingered and was loth to 
end. As I looked, I saw, in joy that struggled 
with shame, a new light in the glowing depths of 
Phroso's eyes, a greeting of an undreamt happi- 
ness, a terrified delight. Then her lids drooped 
and she began to speak quietly and low. 

“ It came on me that I might help if I said it, 
because the islanders love me, and so, perhaps, 
they wouldn’t hurt you. But I couldn’t look at 
you. I only prayed you would understand, that 

you wouldn’t think oh, that you wouldn’t 

think that of me, my lord ! And I didn’t 

know how to meet you to-day, but I had to." 

I stood silent beside her, curiously conscious of 
every detail of nature’s picture before me ; for I 
had turned from her again, and my eyes roamed 


The Smiles of Mouraki Pasha* 249 

over sea and island. But at that moment there 
came from one of the narrow windows of the 
old house, directly above our heads, the sound of 
a low, amused, luxurious chuckle. A look of 
dread and shrinking spread over Phroso’s face. 

Ah, that man ! '' she exclaimed in an agitated 
whisper. 

“ What of him?’’ 

He has been here before. I have seen him 
smile and heard him laugh like that when he 
sent men to death and looked on while they died. 
Yes, men of our own island, men who had served 
us and were our friends. Ah, he frightens me, 
that man ! ” She shuddered, stretching out her 
hand in an unconscious gesture as though she 
would ward off some horrible thing. I have 
heard him laugh like that when a woman asked 
her son’s life of him and a girl her lover’s. It 
kills me to be near him. He has no pity. My 
lord, intercede with him for the islanders. They 
are ignorant men ; they did not know.” 

“ Not one shall be hurt, if I can help it,” said 

I earnestly. ‘‘ But ” I stopped ; yet I would 

go on, and I added, Have you no fear of him 
yourself ? ” 

‘‘What can he do to me?” she asked. “ He 

talked to me this morning about about you. I 

hate to talk with him. But what can he do to me ? ” 

I was silent. Mouraki had not hinted to her 


1250 


Phroso; A Romance* 


the idea which he had suggested — in puzzling 
ambiguity between jest and earnest — to me. Her 
eyes questioned me ; then suddenly she laid her 
hand on my arm, and said, — 

And you would protect me, my lord. While 
you were here, I should be safe.*’ 

“While!** The little word struck cold on my 
heart ; my eyes showed her the blow ; in a 
minute she understood. She raised her hand 
from where it lay and pointed out towards the 
sea. I saw the pretty, trim little yacht running 
home for the harbour after her morning cruise. 

“Yes, while you are here, my lord,’* she said 
with the most pitiful of brave smiles. 

“ As long as you want me, I shall be here,” I 
assured her. 

She raised her eyes to mine ; the colour came 
again to her face. 

“ As long as you are In any danger,” I added 
in explanation. 

“ Ah, yes ! ” said she, with a sigh and drooping 
eyelids ; and she went on in a moment, as though 
recollecting a civility due and not paid, “You 
are very good to me, my lord. For your island 
has treated you unkindly, and you will be glad 
to sail away from it to your home.” 

“ It is,” said I, bending towards her, “ the most 
beautiful island in the world, and I would love t<v 
stay in it all my life.” 


The Smiles of Mourak} Pasha* 

Again the pleased, contented chuckle sounded 
from the window over our heads. It seemed to 
strike Phroso with a new fit of sudden fear. 
With a faint cry she darted out her hand and 
seized mine. 

‘‘ Don’t be afraid. He sha’n’t hurt you, ’’{said I. 

A moment later we heard steps descending the 
stairs inside the house. Mouraki appeared on 
the threshold. Phroso had sprung away from 
me and stood a few paces off. Yet Mouraki 
knew that we had not stood thus distantly before 
his steps were heard. He looked at Phroso and 
then at me ; a blush from her, a scowl from me, 
filled any gaps in his knowledge. He stood 
there smiling — I began to hate the Pasha’s 
smiles — for a moment, and then came forward. 
He bowed slightly but civilly enough to Phroso ; 
then, to my astonishment, he took my hand and 
began to shake it with a great appearance of cor- 
diality. 

** Really, I beg your pardon,” said I. What’s 
the matter?” 

“The matter?” he cried in high good-humour, 
or what seemed such. “The matter? Why, 
the matter, my dear Wheatley, is that you ap- 
pear to be both a very discreet fellow and a very 
fortunate one.” 

“ I don’t understand yet,” said I, trying to 
hide my growing irritation. 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


252 

‘‘Surely it’s no secret?” he asked. “It is 
generally known, isn’t it ! ” 

“ What’s generally known ? ” I fairly roared in 
an exasperation that mastered all self-control. 

The Pasha was not in the very least disturbed. 
He held a bundle of letters in his left hand, and 
he began now to sort them. He ended by 
choosing one, which he held up before me, with 
a malicious humour twinkling from under his 
heavy brows. 

“ I get behindhand in my correspondence when 
I’m on a voyage,” said he. “ This letter came to 
Rhodes about a week ago, together with a mass 
of public papers, and I have only this morning 
opened it. It concerns you.” 

“ Concerns me ? Pray in what way ? ” 

“ Or rather it mentions you.” 

“ Who is it from ? ” I asked. The man’s face 
was full of triumphant spite, and I grew uneasy. 

“ It is,” said he, “ from our Ambassador in 
London. I think you know him.” 

“ Slightly.” 

“ Precisely.” 

“ Well?” 

“ He asks how you are getting on In Neopalia, 
or whether I have any news of you.” 

“ You’ll be able to answer him now.” 

“Yes, yes, with great satisfaction. And he will 
be able to satisfy some inquiries which he has had.” 


The Smiles of Mourafci Pasha* 253 

I knew what was coming now. Mouraki 
beamed pleasure. I set my face. At Phroso, 
who stood near all this while in silence, I dared 
not look. 

‘‘ From a certain lady who is most anxious 
about you.'’ 

Ah ! " 

‘‘A Miss Hipgrave — Miss Beatrice Hipgrave.” 

‘‘ Ah, yes ! " 

Who is a friend of yours ? ” 

Certainly, my dear Pasha.” 

‘‘ Who is, in fact — let me shake hands again — 
your future wife. A thousand congratulations ! ” 

‘‘Oh, thanks, you’re very kind,” said 1. “Yes, 
she is.” 

I declare that I must have played this scene — 
no easy one — well, for Mouraki’s rapturous 
amusement disappeared. He seemed rather put 
out. He looked (and I hope felt) a trifle foolish. 
I kept a cool, careless glance on him. 

But his triumph came from elsewhere. He 
turned from me to Phroso, and my eyes followed 
his. She stood rigid, frozen, lifeless ; she de- 
voured my face with an appealing gaze. She 
made no sign and uttered no sound. Mouraki 
smiled again ; and I said, — 

“Any London news, my dear Pasha?” 


CHAPTER XIV^ 

A Stroke in the Game^ 

I WAS glad ; as soon as I was alone and had 
time to think over Mouraki's coup I was glad. 
He had ended a false position into which my 
weakness had led me ; he had rendered it possi- 
ble for me to serve Phroso in friendship pure 
and simple ; he had decided a struggle which I 
had failed to decide for myself. It would be 
easy now (so I told myself) for both of us to re- 
pose on that fiction of a good-natured device and 
leave our innermost feelings in decent obscurity, 
while we counter-worked the scheme which the 
Pasha had in view. The scheme he proceeded to 
forward with all the patience and ability of which 
he was master. For the next week or so matters 
seemed to stand still, but to a closer study they 
revealed slow yet uninterrupted movement. I 
was left almost entirely alone at the house ; but 
I could not bring myself to abandon my position 
and seek the society of my friends on the yacht. 
Though reduced to idleness and robbed of any 
part in the drama, I would not forsake the stage, 


A Stroke m the Game# 255 

but lagged a superfluous spectator of an unpleas- 
ing piece. Mou raid was at work. HesawPhroso 
every day and for long interviews. I hardly set 
my eyes on her. The affairs of the island af- 
forded him a constant pretext for conferring 
with or dictating to its Lady ; I had no excuse 
for forcing an intercourse which Phroso evidently 
was at pains to avoid. I could imagine the 
Pasha’s progress ; not in favour or willing accept- 
ance, for I knew her fear and hatred of him, but 
in beating down her courage and creating a de- 
spair which would serve him as well as love. Be- 
yond doubt he was serious in his design ; his 
cool patience spoke settled purpose, his obvious 
satisfaction declared a conviction of success. 
He acquiesced in Phroso’s seclusion, save when 
he sent for her; he triumphed in watching me 
spend weary hours in solitary pacing up and 
down before the house : he would look at me 
with a covert exultation and amuse himself by a 
renewal of sympathetic congratulations on my 
engagement. I do not think that he wished me 
away. I was the sauce to his dish, the garlic in 
the salad, the spice in the sweetmeat over which 
he licked appreciative lips. Thus passed eight 
or ten days, and I grew more out of temper, 
more sour, and more determined with every set- 
ting sun. Denny ceased to pray my company : 
I was not to be moved from the neighbourhood 


256 Phfoso: A Romance* 

of the house. I waited, the Pasha waited ; he 
paved his way, I lay in ambush by it ; he was 
bent on conquering Phroso, I had no design, 
only a passionate resolve that he should try a 
fall with me first. 

There came a dark stormy evening, when the 
clouds sent down a thick, close rain, and the 
wind blew in mournful gusts. Having escaped 
from Mouraki's talk, I had watched him go up- 
stairs, and myself had come out to pace again 
my useless beat. I strayed a few hundred yards 
from the house, and turned to look at the light 
in the Governor's window. It shone bright and 
steady, seeming to typify his relentless, unwaver- 
ing purpose ; a sudden oath escaped from the 
weary sickness of my heart ; there came an un- 
looked-for answer from my elbow. 

He acts, you talk, my lord. He works, you 
are content to curse him. Which will win?" 
said a grave voice ; and Kortes's handsome 
figure was dimly visible in the darkness. He 
works, she weeps, you curse. Who will win ? " 
he asked again, folding his arms. 

‘‘Your question carries its own answer, doesn't 
it ? " I retorted angrily. 

“Yes, if I have put it right," said he. There 
was a touch of scorn in his voice that I did not 
care to hear. “Yes, it carries its own answer, if 
you are content to leave it as I stated it." 



IT WAS TRUE — BY MARVEL IT WAS TRUE ! ” 






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A Stroke in the Game# 


257 


Content ! Good God ! '' 

He drew nearer to me and whispered : 

“ This morning he told her his purpose ; this 
evening again — yes, now, while we talk — he is 
forcing it on her. And what help has she?’' 

‘‘ She won’t let me help her ; she won’t let me 
see her.” 

“ How can you help her, you who do nothing 
but curse ? ” 

‘‘ Look here, Kortes,” said I, I know all that. 
I’m a fool, and a worm, and everything else you 
like to intimate. But your contempt doesn’t 
seem much more practical than my cursing. 
What’s in your mind ? ” 

‘‘You must keep faith with this lady in your 
own land ? ” 

“ You know of her ? ” 

“ My sister has told me — she who waits on the 
Lady Euphrosyne.” 

“ Ah ! Yes, I must keep faith with her.” 

“And with Mouraki?” he asked. 

My mind travelled with his ; I caught him 
eagerly by the arm. I had his idea in a moment. 

“Why that?” I asked. “Yes, Kortes, why 
that?” 

“ I thought you were so scrupulous, my lord.” 

“ I have no scruples in deceiving this Mou- 
raki.” 

“ That’s better, my lord,” he answered with a 


Phroso: A Romance* 


258 

grim smile. By heavens, I thought we were to 
dance together at the wedding ! 

‘'The wedding?'' I cried. “I think not. 

Kortes, do you mean ? " I made a gesture 

that indicated some violence to Mouraki. But I 
added, “ It must be open fight, though." 

“You mustn't touch a hair of his head. The 
island would answer bitterly for that." 

We stood in silence for a moment. Then I 
gave a short laugh. 

“ My character is my own," said I. “ I may 
blacken it, if I like." 

“ It is only in the eyes of Mouraki Pasha," 
said Kortes with a smile. 

“But she will she understand? There 

must be no more " 

“She will understand. You shall see her." 

“You can contrive that?" 

“Yes, with my sister’s help. Will you tell 
Mouraki first?" 

“ No — her first. She may refuse." 

“She loathes him too much to refuse any- 
thing." 

“ Good. When, then ? " 

“ To-night. She will leave him soon." 

“ But he watches her to her room." 

“Yes; but you, my lord, know that there is 
another way." 

“Yes, yes ; by the roof? The ladder? " 


A Stroke in the Game* 


259 


It shall be there for you in an hour/* 

And you, Kortes ? 

‘‘Til wait at the foot of it. The Pasha him- 
self should not mount it alive/' 

‘‘ Kortes, it is trusting me much." 

‘‘ I know, my lord. If you were not a man to 
be trusted, you would do what you are going to 
pretend." 

I hope you're right. Kortes, it sets me 
aflame now to be near her.” 

‘‘Can’t I understand that, my lord ? " said he 
with a sad smile. 

“ By heaven, you’re a good fellow ! " 

“ I am a servant of the Stefanopouloi." 

“Your sister will tell her before I come? I 
couldn’t tell her myself." 

“Yes ; she shall be told before you come." 

“ In an hour, then? " 

“Yes." And, without another word, he strode 
by me. I caught his hand as he went, and 
pressed it. Then I was alone in the darkness 
again, but with a plan in my head and a weapon 
in my hand, and no more empty, useless cursings 
in my mouth. Busily rehearsing the part I was 
to play, I resumed my quick pacing. It was a 
hard part, but a good part ; I would match 
Mouraki with his own weapons ; my cynicism 
should beat his, my indifference to the claims of 
honour overtop his shameless use of terror or of 


26 o 


Phroso: A Romance# 


force. The smiles should now be not all the 
Pasha’s ; I would have a smile too, one that 
would, I trusted, compel a scowl even from his 
smooth, inscrutable face. 

I was walking quickly ; on a sudden I came 
almost in contact with a man, who leaped on one 
side to avoid me. ‘‘ Who’s there ? ’* I cried, 
standing on my defence, as I had learned was 
wise in Neopalia. 

It is I ; Demetri,” answered a sullen voice. 

‘‘What are you doing here, Demetri? And 
with your gun ! ” 

“ I walk by night, like my lord.” 

“Your walks by night have had a meaning 
before now.” 

“They mean no harm to you now.” 

“ Harm to any one ? ” 

A pause followed before his gruff voice an- 
swered, — 

“ Harm to nobody. What harm can be done 
when my gracious Lord the Governor is on the 
island and watches over it ? ” 

“True, Demetri. He has small mercy for 
wrongdoers and turbulent fellows, such as some 
I know of.” 

“ I know him as well as you, my lord, and 
better,” said the fellow, his voice charged with a 
passionate hate. “ Yes, there are many in Neo- 
palia who know Mouraki.” 


A Stroke in the Game^ 


261 


So says Mouraki ; and he says it as though 
it pleased him.” 

“ One day he shall have proof enough to sat- 
isfy him,” growled Demetri. 

The savage rage of the fellow’s tone had 
caught my attention, and I gazed intently into 
his face ; not even the darkness quite hid the 
angry gleam of his deep-set eyes. 

Demetri, Demetri,” said I, ‘‘ aren’t you on a 
dangerous path ? I see a long knife in your belt 
there, and that gun, — isn’t it loaded ? Come, go 
back to your home.” 

He seemed influenced by my remonstrances, 
but he denied the suggestion I made. 

“I don’t seek his life,” he said sullenly. If 

we were strong enough to fight openly well, 

I say nothing of that. He killed my brother, 
my lord.” 

“ I killed a brother of yours too, Demetri.” 

‘‘Yes, in honest fighting, when he sought to 
kill you. You didn’t half kill him with the lash, 
before his mother’s eyes, and finish the work 
with a rope.” 

“Mouraki did?” 

“Yes, my lord. But it is nothing, my lord. I 
mean no harm.” 

“ Look here, Demetri. I don’t love Mouraki 
myself, and you did me a good turn a little while 
ago. But if I find you hanging about here again 


262 Phfoso: A Romance. 

with your gun and your knife, Til tell Mouraki, 
as sure as Tm alive. Where I come from, we 
don’t assassinate. Do you see? ” 

‘‘ I hear, my lord. Indeed I had no such pur- 
pose.” 

You know your purpose best; and now you 
know what I shall do. Come, be off with you, 
and don’t show yourself here again.” 

He cringed before me with renewed protesta- 
tions ; but his invention provided no excuse for 
his presence. He swore to me that I wronged 
him. I contented myself with ordering him off, 
and at last he went off, striking back towards 
the village. ‘‘Upon my word,” said I, “it’s a 
nuisance to be honourably brought up.’* For it 
would have been marvellously convenient to let 
Demetri have a shot at the Pasha with that gun 
of his, or a stab with the long knife he had fin- 
gered so affectionately. 

This encounter had passed the time of wait- 
ing, and now I strolled back to the house. It 
was hard on midnight ; the light in Mouraki’s 
window was extinguished ; two soldiers stood 
sentry by the closed door. They let me in and 
locked the door behind me ; this watch was not 
kept on me ; Mouraki knew very well that I had 
no desire to leave the island. Phroso was the 
prisoner and the prize that the Pasha guarded ; 
perhaps, also, he had an inkling that he was not 


A Stroke in the Game* 263 

popular in Neopalia, and that he would not be 
wise to trust to the loyalty of its inhabitants. 

Soon I found myself in the compound at the 
back of the house. The ladder was placed ready ; 
Kortes stood beside it. There seemed to be 
nobody else about ; the rain still fell, and the 
wind had risen till it whistled wildly in the wood. 

She's waiting for you," whispered Kortes. 
‘‘ She knows, and she will second the plan." 

Where is she? " 

On the roof. She’s wrapped in my cloak ; 
she will take no hurt." 

And Mouraki ? " 

“ He’s gone to bed. She was with him two 
hours." 

I mounted the ladder and found myself on the 
flat roof where once Phroso had stood gazing up 
towards the cottage on the hill. We were fight- 
ing Constantine then : Mouraki was our foe now 
Constantine lay a prisoner, harmless, as it seemed, 
and helpless. I prayed for a like good fortune 
in the new enterprise. An instant later I found 
Phroso’s hand in mine. I carried it to my lips 
as I murmured my greeting in a hushed voice; 
the first answer to it was a nervous sob, but 
Phroso followed it with a pleading apology. 

Fm so tired," she said, “ so tired. I have 
fought him for two hours to-night. Forgive me. 
I will be brave, my lord." 


264 


PTifoso: A Romance* 


I had determined on a cold, business-like man- 
ner ; I went as straight to the point as a busy- 
man in his city office. 

‘‘You know the plan? You consent to it ? I 
asked. 

“Yes. I think I understand it. It is good of 
you, my lord. For you may run great danger 
through me.’* 

That was indeed true, and in more senses than 
one. 

“ I do for you what you did not hesitate to do 
for me,” said I. 

“ Yes,” said Phroso in a very low whisper. 

“You pretended; well then, now I pretend.” 
My voice sounded not only cold, but bitter and 
unpleasant, “ I think it may succeed,” I con- 
tinued. “ He won’t dare to take any extreme 
steps against me. I don’t see how he can pre- 
vent our going.” 

“ He will let us go, you think ? ” 

“ I don’t know how he can refuse. And where 
will you go ? ” 

“ I have some friends at Athens — people who 
knew my father.” 

“Good. I’ll take you there and ” I 

paused. “ I’ll I’ll take you [there and ” 

Again I paused ; I could not help it. “ — and 
leave you there in safety,” I ended at last in a 
gruff, harsh whisper. 


A Stroke in the Game* 265 

Yes, my lord. And then you will go home 
in safety ? 

“ Perhaps. That doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes, it does matter,” said she softly. “ For I 
would not be in safety unless you were.” 

“Ah, Phroso, don’t do that!” I groaned in- 
wardly. 

“Yes, you will go back in safety, back to your 
own land — back to the lady ” 

“Never mind ” I began. 

“ Back to the lady whom my lord loves,” whis- 
pered Phroso. “ Then you will forget this 

troublesome island, and the troublesome the 

troublesome people on it.” 

Her face was no more than a foot from mine 
— pale, with sad eyes and a smile that quivered 
on trembling lips — the fairest face in the world 
that I had seen or believed any man to have 
seen ; and her hand rested in mine. There may 
live men who would have looked over her head 
and not in those eyes — saints or dolts — I was 
neither ; not 1 . I looked. I looked as though I 
should never look elsewhere again, nor cared to 
live if I could not look. But Phroso’s hand was 
drawn from mine and her eyes fell. I had to 
end the silence. 

“ I "shall go straight to Mouraki to-morrow 
morning,” said I, “ and tell him you have agreed 
to be my wife ; that you will come with me 


266 


Phfoso: A Romance. 


under the care of Kortes and his sister, and that 
we shall be married on the first opportunity. 

But he knows about about the lady you 

love/’ 

‘‘ It won’t surprise Mouraki to hear that I am 

going to break my faith with the lady I love,” 

said 1. 

“ No,” said Phroso, refusing resolutely to look 
at me again. “ It won’t surprise Mouraki.” 

Perhaps it wouldn’t surprise any one.” 

Phroso made no comment on this. And on 
the moment that I said it, I heard a voice below, 
a voice I knew very well. 

“ What’s the ladder here for, my friend ? ” it 
asked. 

“ It enables one to ascend or descend, my 
lord,” answered Kortes’s grave voice, without 
the least touch of irony. 

It’s Mouraki,” whispered Phroso. At the 
time of danger her frightened eyes came back to 
mine, and she drew nearer to me. It’s Mouraki, 
my lord.” 

“ I know it is,” said I ; “so much the better.” 

“That seems probable,” observed Mouraki. 
“But to enable whom to ascend and descend, 
friend Kortes ? ” 

“ Any one who desires, my lord.” 

“Then I will ascend,” said Mouraki. 

“ A thousand pardons, my lord I ” 


A Stroke in the Game* 


267 


“Stand aside, sir. What, you dare 

“ Run back to your room,'' I whispered. 
“ Quick. Good-night." I caught her hand and 
pressed it. She turned and disappeared swiftly 
through the door which gave access to the inside 
of the house and thence to her room. And I — 
glad that the interview had been interrupted, for 
I could have borne little more of it — walked to 
the battlements and looked over. Kortes stood 
like a wall between the astonished Mouraki and 
the ladder. 

“ Kortes, Kortes," I cried in a tone of grieved 
surprise, “ is it possible that you don’t recognise 
his Excellency ? " 

“ Why, Wheatley ! " cried Mouraki. 

“ Who else should it be, my dear Pasha ? Will 
you come up, or shall I come down and join 
you ? Out of the way, Kortes." 

Kortes, who would not obey Mouraki, obeyed 
me. Mouraki seemed to hesitate about mount- 
ing. I solved the difficulty by descending rap- 
idly. I was smiling, and I took the Pasha by the 
arm, saying with a laugh, — 

“Caught that time. I'm afraid, eh? Well, I 
meant to tell you soon." 

I had certainly succeeded in~astonishing Mou- 
raki. Kortes added to his wonder by springing 
nimbly up the ladder and pulling it up after him. 

“ I thought you were in bed," said I. “ And 


268 


Phfoso; A Romancte* 


when the cat’s away the mice will play, you 
know. Well, we’re caught ! ” 

We ? ” asked the Pasha. 

Well, do you suppose I was alone? Is it the 
sort of night a man chooses to spend alone on a 
roof?” 

Who was with you, then ? ” he asked, sus- 
picion alive in his crafty eyes. 

I took him by the arm and led him into the 
house, through the kitchen, till we reached the 
hall, when I said, — 

‘‘ Am I not a man of taste ? Who should it 
be?” 

He sat down in the great arm-chair, and a 
heavy frown gathered on his brow. I cannot 
quite explain why, but I was radiant. The spirit 
of the game had entered into me ; I forgot the 
reality that was so full of pain ; I was as merry 
as though what I told him had been the happy 
truth instead of a tantalising, impossible vision. 

“ Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” I laughed, 
standing opposite to him, swaying on my feet, 
and burying my hands in my pockets. ‘‘ Don’t 
wrong me, my dear Pasha. It’s all just as it 
should be. There’s nothing going on that should 
not go on under your Excellency’s roof. It is 
all on the most honourable footing.” 

I don’t understand your riddles or your 
mirth,” said Mouraki. 


A Stroke in the Game* 


269 


^^Ah! Now once I didn’t quite appreciate 
yours. The wheel goes round, my dear Pasha. 
Every dog has his day. Forgive me, I am 
naturally elated. I meant to tell you at break- 
fast to-morrow, but since you surprised our ten- 
der meeting, why. I’ll tell you now. Congratu- 
late me. That charming girl has owned that her 
avowal of love for me was nothing but bare 
truth, and has consented to make me happy.*’ 

“To marry you ? ” 

“ My dear Pasha ! What else could I mean ? ” 
I took my hands out of my pockets, lit a cig- 
arette, and puffed the smoke luxuriously. 
Mouraki sat motionless in his chair, his eyes 
cold and sharp on me, his brow puckered. At 
last he spoke. 

“ And Miss Hipgrave ? ” he asked sneeringly. 

“ Is there a breach of promise of marriage law 
in Neopalia?” said I. “In truth, my dear 
Pasha, I am a little to blame there; but you 
mustn’t be hard on me. I had a moment of con- 
scientious qualms. I confess it. But she’s too 
lovely, she really is. And she’s so fond of me — 
oh, I couldn’t resist it ! ” I was simpering like 
any affected young lady-killer. 

Mouraki was a clever fellow, but the blow had 
been a sudden one. It strains the control even 
of clever fellows, when a formidable obstacle 
springs up, at a moment’s notice, on a path that 


270 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


they have carefully prepared and levelled for 
their steps. The Pasha’s rage mastered him. 

“You’ve changed your mind rapidly, Lord 
Wheatley,” said he. 

“I know nothing,” I rejoined, “that does 
change a man’s mind so quickly as a pretty girl.” 

“Yet some men hold to their promises,” said 
he with a savage sneer. 

“ Oh, a few, perhaps ; very few in these days.” 

“ And you don’t aspire to be one? ” 

“ Oh, I aspired,” said I with a laugh. “ But 
my aspirations have not stood out against 
Phroso’s charms.” 

Then I took a step nearer to him, and, veiling 
impertinence under a thin show of sympathy, I 
said, — 

“I hope you’re not really annoyed? You 
weren’t serious in the hint you gave of your own 
intentions? I thought you were only joking, 
you know. If you were serious, believe me, I am 
grieved. But it must be every man for himself 
in these little matters, mustn’t it ? ” 

He had borne as much as he could. He rose 
suddenly to his feet, and an oath escaped from 
between his teeth. 

“ You sha’n’t have her ! ” said he. “ You think 
you can laugh at me : men who think that find 
out their mistake.” 

I laughed again. I did not shrink from exas- 


A Stroke in the Game* 271 

perating him to the uttermost. He would be no 
more dangerous ; he might be less discreet. 

Pardon me/’ said I, but I don’t perceive 
how we need your permission, glad as we should, 
of course, be of your felicitations.” 

I have some power in Neopalia,”he reminded 
me with a threatening gleam in his eye. 

‘‘No doubt, but the power has to be carefully 
exercised when British subjects are in question, 
— men (if I may add so much) of some position. 
I can’t be considered an islander of Neopalia for 
all purposes, my dear Pasha.” 

He seemed not to hear or not to heed what I 
said ; but he both heard and heeded, or I mis- 
took my man. 

“ I don’t give up what I have resolved upon,” 
said he. 

“You describe my own temper to a nicety,” 
said I. “ Now I have resolved to marry Phroso.” 

“ No ! ” said Mouraki. 

I greeted the word with a scornful shrug. 

“You understand?” he continued. “ It shall 
not be.” 

“We shall see,” said I. 

“You don’t know the risk you’re running.” 

“ Come, come, isn’t this rather near boast- 
ing?”! asked contemptuously. “Your Excel- 
lency is a great man, no doubt, but you can’t 
afford to carry out these dark designs against a 


272 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


man of my position/’ Then I changed to a 
more friendly tone, saying, My dear Pasha, had 
you defeated me, 1 should have taken it quietly. 
Won’t you best consult your dignity by doing 
the same ? ” 

A long silence followed. I watched his face. 
Very gradually his brow cleared, his lips relaxed 
into a smile. He, in his turn, shrugged his 
shoulders ; he took a step towards me ; he held 
out his hand. 

“ Wheatley,” said he, it is true, I am a fool. 
A man is a fool in such matters. You must 
make allowances for me. I was honestly in love 
with her. I thought myself safe from you. I 
allowed my temper to get the better of me. 
Will you shake hands? ” 

‘‘ Ah, now you’re like yourself, my dear friend,” 
said I, grasping his hand. 

“ We’ll speak again about it to-morrow. But 
my anger is over. Fear nothing. I will be rea- 
sonable.” 

I murmured grateful thanks and appreciation 
of his generosity. 

‘‘ Good-night, good-night,” said he. I wish 
I hadn’t found you to-night. I should not have 
lost my composure like this at any other time. 
You’re sure you forgive my hasty words ?” 

“From the bottom of my heart,” said I ear- 
nestly ; and we pressed one another’s hands. 


A Stroke in the Game# 


273 


Mouraki passed on to the stairs and began to 
mount them slowly. He turned his head over 
his shoulder and said, — 

How will you settle with Miss Hipgrave?*' 

** I must beg her forgiveness, as I must yours,'* 
said I. 

“ I hope you'll be equally successful,” said he, 
and his smile was in working order by now. It 
was the last I saw of him as he disappeared up 
the stairs. 

“Now,” said I, sitting down, “he’s gone to 
think how he can get my throat cut without a 
scandal.” 

In fact, Mouraki and I were beginning to un* 
derstand one another. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A Strange Escape. 

Yes, Mouraki was dangerous, very dangerous : 
now that he had regained his self-control, most 
dangerous. His designs against me would be 
limited only by the bounds which I had taken 
the opportunity of recalling to his mind. I was 
a known man ; I could not disappear without ex- 
cuse. But the fever of the island might be at 
the disposal of the Governor no less than of Con- 
stantine Stefanopoulos. I must avoid the in- 
fection. I congratulated myself that the best 
antidote I had yet found — a revolver and car- 
tridges — was again in my possession. These, and 
open eyes, were the treatment for the sudden 
fatal disease that threatened inconvenient lives 
in Neopalia. 

I thought that I had seen the Pasha safely and 
finally to bed when he left me in the hall after 
our interview ; I myself had gone to bed almost 
immediately, and, tired out with the various 
emotions I had passed through, had slept soundly. 
But now, looking back, I wonder whether the 


27S 


A Strangle Escape* 

Governor spent much of the night on his back. 
I doubt it, — very much I doubt it. Nay, I in- 
dine to think that he had a very active night, of 
going to and fro, of strange meetings, of schemes 
and bargainings : and I fancy he had not been 
back in his room long before I rose for my morn- 
ing walk. However, of that I knew nothing at 
the time, and I met him at breakfast, prepared 
to resume our discussion as he had promised. 
But, behold, he was surrounded by officers. 
There was a stir in the hall ; orders were being 
given ; romance and the affairs of love seemed 
forgotten. 

‘‘ My dear lord,*' cried Mouraki, turning to- 
wards me with every sign of discomposure and 
vexation on his face, ‘‘ I am terribly annoyed. 
These careless fellows of mine — alas, I am too 
good-natured and they presume on it ! — have let 
your friend Constantine slip through their fingers.’* 
“ Constantine escaped ! ” I exclaimed in genu- 
ine surprise and vexation. 

“Alas, yes! The sentry fell asleep; it seems 
that the prisoner had friends and they got him 
out by the window. The news came to me at 
dawn, and I have been having the island scoured 
for him. But he’s not to be found, and we think 
he must have had a boat in readiness,” 

“ Have you looked in the cottage where his 
wife is? ” 


2j6 


Phroso: A Romance# 


The very first thought that struck me, my 
dear friend ! Yes, it has been searched. In 
vain ! It is now so closely guarded that nobody 
can get in. If he ventures there we shall have 
him to a certainty. But go on with your break- 
fast. We needn’t spoil that for you. I have 
one or two more orders to give.*' 

In obedience to the Pasha I sat down and be- 
gan my breakfast. But as I ate, while Mouraki 
conferred with his officers in a corner of the hall, 
I became very thoughtful concerning this escape 
of Constantine. Sentries do sleep — sometimes. 
Zealous friends do open windows — sometimes. 
Fugitives do find boats ready — sometimes. It 
was all possible ; there was nothing even exactly 

improbable. Yet — yet ! Whether Mour- 

aki’s account were the whole truth, or something 
lay below and unrevealed, at least I knew that 
the escape meant that another enemy, and a 
bitter one, was loosed against me. I had fought 
Constantine : I had touched Mouraki’s shield in 
challenge the night before : was I to have them 
both against me ? And would it be two against 
one, or, as boys say, all against all ? If the for- 
mer, the chances of my catching the fever were 
considerably increased. And somehow I had a 
presentiment that the former was nearer the 
truth than the latter. I had no real evidence : 
Mouraki’s visible chagrin seemed to contradict 


277 


A Strangle Escape* 

my theory. But was not Mouraki’s chagrin just 
a little too visible ? It was such a very obvious, 
hearty, genuine, honest, uncontrollable chagrin : 
it demanded belief in itself the least bit too 
loudly. 

The Pasha joined me over my cigarette. If 
Constantine were in the island, said the Pasha, 
with a blow of his fist on the table, he would be 
laid by the heels before evening came ; not a 
mole — let alone a man — could escape the soldiers’ 
search ; not a bird could enter the cottage (he 
seemed to repeat this very often) unobserved, 
nor escape from it without a bullet in its plumage. 
And when Constantine was caught he should pay 
for this defiance. For the Pasha had delayed 
the punishment of his crimes too long; this inso 
lent escape was a proper penalty on the Pasha’s 
weak remissness; the Pasha blamed himself very 
much ; his honour was directly engaged in the 
recapture ; he would not sleep till it was accom- 
plished. In a word the Pasha’s zeal beggared 
comparison and outran adequate description. It 
filled his mind ; it drove out last night’s topic ; 
he waved that trifle away ; it must wait, for now 
there was business afoot; it could be discussed 
only when Constantine was once more a prisoner 
in the hands of justice, a suppliant for the mercy 
of the Governor. 

I escaped at length from the torrent of sincer- 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


278 

ity with which Mouraki insisted on deluging me, 
and went into the open air. There were no signs 
of Phroso ; Kortes was not to be seen either. I 
saw the yacht in the harbour, and thought of 
strolling down. But Denny had, no doubt, heard 
the great news, and I was reluctant to be out of 
the way, even for an hour. Events came quick 
in Neopalia. People appeared and disappeared 

in no time, escaped, and were not recaptured. 

But I told myself that I would send a message to 
the yacht soon ; for I wanted Denny and the 

others to know what I what I was strangely 

inclined to suspect regarding this occurrence. 

The storm which had swept over the island 
the evening before was gone ; it was a bright, 
hot day ; the waves danced blue in the sun, 
while a light breeze blew from off the side of the 
land on which the house stood, and was carrying 
fishing-boats merrily out of the harbour. If 
Constantine had found a boat, the wind was fair 
to carry him away to safety. But had he? I 
glanced up at the cottage in the woods above 
me. A thought struck me. I could run up there 
and down again in a few moments. 

I made my way quickly back to the house and 
into the compound behind. Here, to my de- 
light, I found Kortes. A word showed me that 
he had heard the news. Phroso also Had heard 
it ; it was known to every one. 


A Strangle Escape* 279 

‘‘Tm going to see if I can get a look into the 
cottage/’ said I. 

Fm told it is guarded, my lord.” 

Kortes, speak plainly. What do you say 
about this affair ? ” 

I don’t know ; I don’t know what to think. 
If they won’t let you in ” 

Yes, I meant that. How is she, Kortes ?” 

‘‘Well, my sister says. I haven’t seen her. 
Run no risks, my lord. She has only you and 
me.” 

“And my friends. Fm going to send them 
word to be on the look-out for any summons 
from me.” 

“ Then send it at once,” he counselled. “ You 
may delay, Mouraki will not.” 

I was struck with his advice ; but I was also 
bent on carrying out my reconnaissance of the 
cottage. 

“ I’ll send it directly I come back,” said I, and 
I ran to the angle of the wall, climbed up and 
started at a quick walk through the wood. I 
met nobody till I was almost at the cottage. 
Then I came suddenly on a sentry. Another I 
saw to the right, a third to the left. The cottage 
seemed ringed round with watchful figures. The 
men barred my way. 

“ But I am going to see the lady — Madame 
Stefanopoulos,” I protested. 


28 o 


Phroso ; A Romance* 


I have orders to let nobody pass/' he ans« 
wered. I will call the officer." 

The officer came ; he was full of infinite re- 
grets, but his Excellency's orders were absolute. 
Nay, did I not think they were wise? This man 
was so desperate a criminal, and he had so many 
friends. He would, of course, try to communi- 
cate with his wife. 

But he can't expect his wife to help him," I 
exclaimed. ‘‘ He wanted to murder her." 

But women are forgiving. He might well 
persuade her to help him in his escape ; or he 
might intimidate her." 

‘‘ So I’m not to pass?" 

I'm afraid not, my lord. If his Excellency 
gives you a pass it will be another matter." 

The lady is there still? " 

Oh, I believe so. I have not myself been in- 
side the cottage. That is not part of my duty." 

Is any one stationed in the cottage ? " 

The officer smiled and answered with an apol- 
ogetic shrug, ‘'Would not you ask his Excel- 
lency anything you desire to know, my lord ? " 

“ Well, I dare say you’re right," I admitted, 
and I fixed a long glance on the windows of the 
cottage. 

“ Even to allow anybody to linger about here 
is contrary to my orders," suggested the officer, 
still civil, still apologetic. 


28t 


A Stfangfc Escape* 

Even to look ? 

“ His Excellency said to linger.** 

“ Is it the same thing ? 

His Excellency would answer that also, my 
lord.’* 

The barrier round the place was impregnable. 
That seemed plain. To loiter near the cottage 
was forbidden, to look at it a matter of suspicion. 
Yet looking at the cottage would not help the 
escape of Constantine. 

There seemed nothing to be done. Slowly 
and reluctantly, with a conviction that I was 
turning away baffled from the heart of the mys- 
tery, that the clew lay there were I but allowed 
to take it in my fingers, I retraced my steps down 
the hill through the wood. I believed that the 
strict guard was to prevent my intrusion and 
mine alone ; that the Pasha’s search for Constan- 
tine was a pretence ; in fine, that Constantine 
was at that moment in the cottage, with the 
knowledge of Mouraki and under his protection. 
But I could not prove my suspicions, and I could 
not unravel the plan which the Pasha was pur- 
suing. I had a strange, uneasy sense of fighting 
in the dark; my eyes were blindfolded, while my 
antagonist could make full use of his. In that 
case the odds were against me. 

I passed through the house ; all was quiet, no- 
body was about. It was now the middle of the 


282 


Phtoso: A Romance* 


afternoon, and, having accomplished my useless 
inspection of the cottage, I sat down and wrote 
a note to Denny, bidding him be on the alert, 
day and night ; he or Hogvardt must always be 
on watch, the yacht ready to start at a moment’s 
notice. I begged him to ask no questions, only 
to be ready : for life or death might hang on a 
moment. Thus I paved the way for carrying out 
my resolution ; and my resolution was no other 
than to make a bold dash for the yacht with 
Phroso and Kortes, under cover of night. If we 
reached it and got clear of the harbour, I believed 
that we could show a clean pair of heels to the 
gunboat : moreover I did not think that the wary 
Mouraki would dare to sink us in open sea with 
his guns. The one point I held against him was 
his fear of publicity ; we should be safer in the 
yacht than among the hidden dangers of Neo- 
palia. I finished my note, sealed it, and strolled 
out in front of the house, looking for somebody 
to act as my messenger. 

Standing there, I raised my eyes and looked 
down to the harbour and the sea. At what I 
saw, forgetting Kortes’s reproof, I again uttered 
an oath of surprise and dismay. Smoke poured 
from the funnel of the yacht. See, she moved ! 
She made for the mouth of the harbour. She 
set her course for the sea. Where was she going? 
I did not care to answer that. She must not go ! 


283 


A Strange Escape* 

^It was vital that she should stay ready for me by 
the jetty. My scruples about leaving the house 
vanished before this more pressing necessity. 
Without an instant's delay, with hardly an in- 
stant’s thought, I put my best foot foremost and 
ran as a man runs for his life along the road to- 
wards the town. As I started I thought I heard 
Mouraki’s voice from the window above my head 
beginning in its polite wondering tones, Why 

in the world, my dear Wheatley ? ” Ah, did 

he not know why? I would not stop for him. 
On I went. I reached the main road ; I darted 
down the steep street ; women started in surprise 
at me, children scurried hastily out of my way. 
I was a very John Gilpin without a horse. I did 
not think myself able to run so far or so fast : but 
apprehension gave me legs ; excitement, breath ; 
and love — yes, love — why deny it now? — love, 
speed ; I neither halted nor turned nor failed 
till I reached the jetty. But there I sank ex- 
hausted against the wooden fencing; for the 
yacht was hard on a mile out to sea, and putting 
yards and yards between herself and me at every 
moment. Again I sprang up and waved my 
handkerchief ; two or three of Mouraki’s soldiers 
who were lounging about stared at me stolidly t 
a fisherman laughed mockingly: the children 
had flocked after me down the street and made a 
gaping circle round me. The note to Denny was 


284 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


in my hand: Denny was far out of my reach. 
What possessed the boy ? Hard were the names 
that I called myself for having neglected Kor- 
tes’s advice. What were the cottage and the 
whereabouts of Constantine compared with the 
presence of my friends and the yacht ? 

A hope ran through me. Perhaps they were 
only passing an hour, and would turn homewards 
soon. I strained my eager eyes after them. The 
yacht held on her course, straight, swift, relent- 
less. She seemed to be carrying with her Phroso’s 
hopes of rescue, mine of safety : her buoyant 
leap embodied Mouraki's triumph. I turned 
from watching, sick at heart, half-beaten, and 
discouraged : and, as I turned, a boy ran up to 
me and thrust a letter into my hand, saying, — 

‘‘The gentleman on the yacht left this for my 
lord. I was about to carry it up when I saw my 
lord run through the street, and I followed him 
back.’’ 

The letter bore Denny’s handwriting. I tore 
it open with eager fingers. 

“ Dear Charley,” it ran, “ I don’t know what 
your game is, but it’s pretty slow for us. So 
we’re off fishing. Old Mouraki has been uncom- 
mon civil, and sent a fellow with us to show us 
the best place. If the weather is decent we shall 
stay out a couple of nights, so you may look for 
us the day after to-morrow. I knew it was no 


285 


A Strange Escape. 

good asking you to come. Be a good boy, and 
don’t get into mischief while I’m away. Of 
course Mouraki will bottle Constantine again in 
no time ; he told us he had no doubt of it, unless 
the fellow had found a boat. I’ll run up to the 
house as soon as we get back. Yours ever, D. 
P. S. — As you said you didn’t want Watkins up 
at the house, I’ve taken him along to cook.” 

Beati innocent es ! Denny was very innocent, 
and so, I suppose, very blessed, and my friend 
the Pasha had got rid of him in the easiest man- 
ner possible. Indeed it was uncommon civil 
of Mouraki ! They would be back the day after 
to-morrow, and Denny would run up to the 
house.*' The thing was almost ludicrous in the 
pitiful unconsciousness of it. I tore the note 
that I had written into small pieces, put Denny’s 
in my pocket, and started to mount the hill again. 
But I turned once and looked on the face of the 
sea. To my anxious mind it seemed not to 
smile at me as was its wont. It was not now my 
refuge and my safety, but the prison-bars that 
confined me — me and her whom I had to serve 
and save. 

And he had taken Watkins along to cook ; for 
I did not want him at the house ! I would have 
given every farthing I had in the world for any 
honest, brave man, Watkins or another. And I 
was not to ‘‘ get into mischief.” I knew very 


286 


Phroso: A Romance* 


well what Denny meant by that. Well, he. 
might be reassured. It did not appear likely 
that I should enjoy much leisure for dalliance of 
the sort he blamed. 

Really, you know, I shall have something 
else to do,” I said to myself. 

Slowly I walked up the hill, too deep in reflec- 
tion even to hasten my steps ; and I started like 
a man roused from sleep when I heard, from the 
side of the street, a soft cry of ‘‘ My lord ! ” I 
looked round ; I was directly opposite the door 
of Vlacho’s inn ; on the threshold stood the girl 
Panayiota, who was Demetri's sweetheart and 
had held in her lap the head of Constantine’s 
wife, whom Demetri could not kill. She cast 
cautious glances up and down the street, and 
withdrew swiftly into the shadow of the house, 
beckoning to me to follow her. In a strait like 
mine no chance, however small, is to be missed 
or refused. I followed her. Her cheek glowed 
with colour ; she was under the influence of 
some excitement whose cause I could not 
fathom. 

‘‘ I have a message for you, my lord,” she 
whispered, I must tell it you quickly ; we must 
not be seen.” She shrank back farther into the 
shelter of the doorway. 

“ As quickly as you like, Panayiota,” said I. 

I have little time to lose.” 


A Strangle Escape^ 287 

‘‘You have a friend more than you know of,” 
said she, setting her lips close to my ear. 

“ I’m glad to hear it,” said I. “ Is that all?” 

“Yes, that’s all — a friend more than you know 
of, my lord. Take courage, my lord.” 

I bent my eyes on her face in question ; she un- 
derstood that I was asking for a plainer message. 

“ I can tell you no more,” she said. “ I was 
told to say that — a friend more than you know 
of. I have said it. Don’t linger, my lord. I 
can say no more, and there is danger.” 

“ I’m much obliged to you. I hope he will 
prove of value.” 

“ He will,” she replied quickly, and she waved 
aside the piece of money which I had offered 
her, and motioned me to be gone. But again 
she detained me for a moment. 

“The lady — the wife of the Lord Constantine 
— what of her?” she asked in low, hurried tones. 

“ I know nothing of her,” said I. “ I believe 
she’s at the cottage.” 

“ And he’s loose again ? ” 

“Yes.” And I added, searching her face, 
“ But the Governor will hunt him down.” 

I had my answer, a plain, explicit answer ; it 
came not in words, but in a scornful smile, a lift 
of the brows, a shrug. I nodded in understand- 
ing. Panayiota whispered again, “ Courage — a 
friend more than you know of — courage, my 


288 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


lord/' and, turning, fairly ran away from me down 
the passage towards the yard behind the inn. 

Who was this friend ? By what means did he 
seek to help me? I could not tell. One sus- 
picion I had, and I fought a little fight with my- 
self as I walked back to the house. I recollected 
the armed man I had met in the night, whom I 
had rebuked and threatened. Was he the friend, 
and was it my duty to tell Mouraki of my sus- 
picions? I say, I had a struggle. Did I win or 
lose? I do not know, for even now I cannot 
make up my mind. But I was exasperated at 
the trick Mouraki had played on me ; I was fear- 
ful for Phroso, I felt that I was contending 
against a man who would laugh at the chivalry 
which warned him. I hardened my heart and 
shut my eyes. I owed nothing — less than noth- 
ing — to Mouraki Pasha. He had, as I verily be- 
lieved, loosed a desperate, treacherous foe on 
me. He had, as I knew now, deluded my friends 
into forsaking me. Let him guard his own head 
and his own skin. I had enough to do with 
Phroso and myself. So I reasoned, seeking to 
justify my silence. I have often since thought 
that the question raised a nice enough point of 
casuistry. Men who have nothing else to do 
may amuse themselves with the answering of it. 
I answered it by the time I reached the thresh- 
old of the house. And I held my tongue. 



CASTING MORE THAN ONE CURIOUS GLANCE TOWARDS OUR TABLE, 



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289 


A Strangle Escape* 

Mouraki was waiting for me in the doorway ; 
he was smiling as he had smiled before my bold 
declaration of love for Phroso had spoiled his 
temper. 

‘‘ My dear lord,” he cried, ‘‘ I could have spared 
you a tiresome walk. I thought your friends 
would certainly have told you of their intention, 
or I would have mentioned it myself.” 

My dear Pasha,” I rejoined, no less cordially, 
“ to tell the truth, I knew their intention, but it 
struck me suddenly that I would go with them, 
and I ran down to try and catch them. Un- 
fortunately I was too late.” 

The extravagance of my lying served its turn ; 
Mouraki understood, not that I was trying to 
deceive him, but that I was informing him po- 
litely that he had not succeeded in deceiving me. 

‘‘You wished to accompany them?” he asked 
with a broadening smile. “ You — a lover ! ” 

“ A man can’t always be making love,” said I 
carelessly — though truly enough. 

Mouraki took a step towards me. 

“ It is safer not to do it at all,” said he in a 
lower tone. 

The man had a great gift of expression : his 
eyes could put a world of meaning into a few 
simple words. In this little sentence, which 
sounded like a trite remark, I discovered a last 
offer, an invitation to surrender, a threat in 


290 Phfoso: A Romance* 

case of obstinacy. I answered it after its own 
kind. 

‘‘ Safer perhaps, but deplorably dull,” said 1. 

‘'Ah, well, you know best,” remarked the 
Pasha. “ If you like to take the rough with the 
smooth ” He broke off with a shrug, resum- 

ing a moment later: “You expect to see them 
back the day after to-morrow, don’t you } ” 

I was not sure whether the particular form of 
this question was intentional or not. In the 
literal meaning of his words Mouraki asked me, 
not whether they would be back, but whether I 
thought I should witness their return — possibly 
a different thing. 

“ Denny says they’ll be back then,” I answered 
cautiously. The Pasha stroked his beard ; this 
time he was, I think, hiding a smile at my under- 
standing and evasion of his question. 

“ I hear,” he observed, with a laugh, “ that you 
have been trying to pass my sentries and look for 
our runaway on your own account. You really 
shouldn’t expose yourself to such risks; the man 
might kill you. I’m glad my officer obeyed his 
orders.” 

“ Then Constantine is at the cottage ? ” I cried 
quickly, for I thought he had betrayed himself 
into an admission. His composed air and amused 
smile smothered my hopes. 

“ At the cottage ? Oh, dear, no. Of course I 


A Strange Escape* 291 

have searched that. I had that searched first of 
all.’^ 

“ And the guard ? 

“ Is only to prevent him from going there.’' 

I had not that perfect facial control which dis- 
tinguished the Governor. I suppose I appeared 
unconvinced, for Mouraki caught me by the arm, 
and, giving me an affectionate squeeze, cried, 
“ What an unbeliever ! Come, you shall go with 
me and see for yourself.” 

If he took me, of course I should find nothing. 
The bird, if it had ever alighted on that stone, 
would be flown by now. His specious offer was 
worthless. 

My dear Pasha, of course I take your word 
for it.” 

‘‘ No, I won’t be trusted ! I positively won’t 
be believed! You shall come. We two will go 
together.” And he still clung to my arm with 
the pressure of friendly compulsion. 

I did not see how to avoid doing what he sug- 
gested without coming to an open quarrel with 
him, and that I did not desire. He had every 
motive for wishing to force me into open enmity : 
a hasty word or gesture might serve him as a 
plausible excuse for putting me under arrest. 
He would have a case if he could prove me to 
have been disrespectful to the Governor. My 
only chance lay in seeming submission up to the 


292 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


last possible moment. And Kortes was guard- 
ing Phroso, so that I could go without uneasiness. 

‘'Well, let’s walk up the hill then,” said I 
carelessly. “ Though I assure you, you’re giving 
yourself needless trouble.” 

He would not listen, and we turned, still arm 
in arm, to pass through the house. Mouraki 
had caused a ladder to be placed against the 
bank of rock, for he did not enjoy clambering up 
by the steps cut in the side of it. He set his 
foot now on the lowest rung of this ladder ; but 
he paused there an instant and turned round, 
facing me, and asked, as though the thought 
had suddenly occurred to his mind, — 

“ Have you had any conversation with our 
fair friend this afternoon? ” 

“ The Lady Phroso ? No. She has not made 
an appearance. Perhaps I wrong you, Pasha, 
but I fancied you were not over-anxious that I 
should have a conversation with her.” 

“You wrong me,” he said earnestly. “ Indeed 
you wrong me. To prove it, you shall have a 
tete-a-tete with her the moment we return. Oh, 
I don’t fight with weapons like that ! I wouldn’t 
use my authority like that. I am going to search 
again for this Constantine myself this evening 
with a strong party, then you shall be at perfect 
liberty to talk with her.” 

“ I’m infinitely obliged; you’re too generous.” 




A Strange Escape# 

** I trust we’re gentlemen still, though unhap- 
pily we have become rivals,” and he let go of 
the ladder for an instant in order to press my 
hand. 

Then he began to climb up, and I followed 
him, asking of my puzzled brain, ‘‘ Now, what 
does he mean by that ? ” 

For it seemed to me that a man needed cat’s 
eyes to follow the schemes of Mouraki Pasha, 
eyes that darkness could not blind. This last 
generous offer of his was beyond the piercing of 
my vision. I did not know whether it were 
merely a bit of courtesy, safe to offer, or if it hid 
some new design. Well, it was little use won- 
dering. At least I should see Phroso. Perhaps 

— a sudden thought seized me, and I 

** What makes you look so excited ? ” asked 
the Pasha; his eyes were on my face, his lips 
curved in a smile. 

I’m not excited,” said I. But the blood was 
leaping in my veins. I had an idea. 


CHAPTER XVI^ 

An Unfinished Letten 

I HAVE learned on my way through the world 
how dangerous a thing is a conceit of a man’s 
own cleverness ; and among the most striking 
lessons of this truth stands one which Mouraki 
Pasha taught me in Neopalia. My game was 
against a past-master in the art of intrigue ; yet 
I made sure I had caught him napping, sure that 
my wits were quicker than his and that he missed 
what was plain to my mind. In vain, they say, 
is the net spread in the sight of any bird. Aye, 
of any bird that has eyes and knows how to use 
them. But if the bird has no eyes, or employs 
them in admiring its own plumage, there is a 
chance for the fowler after all. 

These reflections occur to my mind when I 
recollect the hope and exultation in my heart as 
I followed the Governor’s leisurely upward 
march through the wood to the cottage. Mour- 
aki, I said to myself, thought that he was allay- 
ing my suspicions and lulling my watchfulness to 
sleep by the courtesy with which he arranged an 


An Unfinished Letter 


29s 


interview between Phroso and myself. Was 
that what he was really doing? No, I declared 
triumphantly ; he was putting in my way the 
one sovereign chance which fate hitherto had 
denied. He was to be away, and most of his 
men with him : Phroso, Kortes, and I would be 
alone together at the house, alone for an hour, 
perhaps for two. At the moment I felt that I 
asked no more of fortune. Had the Pasha never 
heard of the secret of the Stefanopouloi ? It al- 
most seemed so : but I myself had told him of it, 
and Denny’s information had preceded mine. 
Yet he was leaving us alone by the hidden door. 
Had he remembered it? Had he stopped it? 
My ardour was cooled : my face fell. He knew ; 
he could not have forgotten ; and if he knew and 
remembered, of a surety the passage would be 
blocked or watched ! 

By the way,” said Mouraki, turning to me, 
I want you to show me that passage you told 
me of some time to-morrow. IVe never found 
time to go down there yet, and I have a taste 
for these mediaeval curiosities.” 

I shall be proud to be your guide, Pasha. 
You would trust yourself there with me?” 

Oh, my dear Wheatley, such things are not 
done now,” smiled the Pasha. “You and I will 
settle our little difference another way. Have 
you been down since I came?” 


296 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


‘‘ No. Tve had about enough of the passage,” 
said I carelessly. I should be glad never to 
see it again ; but I must strain a point and go 
with you.” 

''Yes, you must do that,” he answered. 
" How steep this hill is ! Really I must be 
growing old, as Phroso is cruel enough to think ! ” 

This conversation, seeming to fall in so pat 
with my musings, and indicating, if it did not 
state, that Mouraki treated the passage as a trifle 
of no moment, brought us to the outskirts of the 
wood ; the cottage was close in front of us. We 
had passed only one sentry ; the cordon was 
gone. This change struck me at once, and I re- 
marked on it to Mouraki. 

"Yes, I thought it safe to send most of them 
away ; there are one or two more than you see, 
though. But he won’t venture back now.” 

I smiled to myself. I was pleased again at my 
penetration : and in this instance, unlike the 
other at which I have hinted, I do not think I 
was wrong. The cordon had been here, then 
Constantine had ; the cordon was gone, and 
I made no doubt that Constantine was gone 
also. 

The front of the cottage was dark, and the 
curtains of the windows drawn, as they had been 
when I came before, on the night I killed Vlacho 
the innkeeper and fell into the hands of Kortes 


An Unfinished Lettef^ 


297 


and Demetri. The whirligig had turned since 
then ; for then this man Mouraki had been my 
far-off much-desired deliverer, Kortes and Deme- 
tri open enemies. Now Mouraki was my peril; 
Kortes my best friend ; Demetri — well, what and 
whom had Panayiota meant } 

‘‘Shall we go in? asked Mouraki, as we came 
to the house. “ Stay, though. I’ll knock on the 
door with my stick. Madame Stefanopoulos is, 
no doubt, within. I think she will probably not 
have joined her husband.” 

“ I imagine she’ll have heard of his escape 
with great regret,” said I. 

The Pasha knocked with the gold-headed cane 
which he carried. He waited and then repeated 
the blow. No answer came. 

“ Well,” said he with a shrug, “ we have given 
her fair warning. Let us enter. She knows you, 
my dear Wheatley, and will not be alarmed.” 

“ But if Constantine’s here ? ” I suggested with 
a mocking smile. “ Your life is a valuable one ; 
run no risks ; he’s a desperate man.” 

The Pasha shifted his cane to his left hand, 
smiled in answer to my smile, and produced a 
revolver. 

“You’re wise,” said I, and I took my revolver 
out of my pocket. 

“We are ready for — anything — now,” said 
Mouraki. 


298 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


I think ‘‘ anything in that sentence was 
meant to include ‘‘ one another/' 

The Pasha opened the door and passed in. 
Nothing seemed changed since my last visit. 
The door of the room on the right was open ; 
the table was again spread, — for two this time ; 
the left-hand door was shut. 

'‘You see the fugitive is not in that room,'’ 
observed the Pasha, waving his hand to the right. 
" Let us try the other," and he turned the door- 
handle of the room on the left and preceded me 
into it. 

At this point I am impelled to a little con- 
fession. The murderous impulse is, perhaps, not 
so uncommon as we assume ; I dare say many 
respectable men and amiable women have felt it 
in all its attractive simplicity once or twice in 
their lives ; it seems at such moments hardly sin- 
ful, merely too dangerous, and to be recognised 
as impossible to gratify only by reason of its 
danger. But I perceive that I am accusing the 
rest of the world in the hope of excusing myself ; 
for at that moment, when the Pasha’s broad, solid 
back was presented to me, a yard in front, I ex- 
perienced a momentary but extremely strong 
temptation to raise my arm, move my finger, and 
— transform the situation. I did not do it : but, 
on the other hand, I have never counted the de- 
sire to do it among the great sins of my life. 


An Unfinished Letter* 299 

Mouraki, I thought then and know now, deserved 
nothing better. Unhappily we have our own 
consciences to consider, and thus are often pre- 
vented from meting out to others the measure 
their deeds claim. 

I see nobody,’' said the Pasha. But then 
the room is dark. Shall I pull back the cur- 
tain ? ” 

You’d better be careful,” said I, laughing. 

That’s what Vlacho did.” 

Ah, but you’re on the same side this time,” 
he answered, and stepped across the room to- 
wards the curtain. 

Suddenly I became, or seemed to become, 
vaguely, uncomfortably, even terribly conscious 
of something there. ^ Yet I could see nothing in 
the dark room, and I heard nothing. I can 
hardly think Mouraki shared my strange oppres- 
sive feeling ; yet the curtain was not immediately 
drawn back, his figure bulked motionless just in 
front of me, and he repeated, in tones that be- 
trayed uneasiness, — 

I suppose I’d better draw back the curtain, 
hadn’t I ? ” 

What was it? It must have been all fancy, 
born of the strain of excitement and the nervous 
tension in which I was living*. I have had some- 
thing of the feeling in the dark before and since, 
but never so strong, distinct, and almost over- 


300 Phroso: A Romance# 

powering. I knew Constantine was not there ; I 
had no fear of him if he were. Yet my forehead 
grew damp with sweat. 

Mouraki’s hand was on the curtain; he drew it 
back; the dull evening light spread sluggishly 
through the room. Mouraki turned and looked 
at me ; I returned his gaze. A moment passed 
before either of us looked round. 

There’s nobody behind the curtain,” said he 
with a slight sigh which seemed to express relief. 
“ Do you see any one anywhere?” 

Then I pulled myself together, and looked 
round. The chairs near me were empty, the 
couch had no occupant. But away in the corner 
of the room, in the shadow of a projecting angle 
of wall, I saw a figure seated in front of a table. 
On the table were writing-materials; the figure 
was a woman’s, her arms were spread on the 
table, and her head lay between them. I raised 
my hand and pointed to her. Mouraki’s eyes 
obeyed my direction, but came quickly back to 
me in question, and he arched his brows. 

I stepped across the room towards where the 
woman sat. I heard the Pasha following with 
hesitating tread, and I waited till he overtook 
me. Then I called her name softly ; yet I knew 
that it was no use to call her name ; it was only 
the protest my horror made. She would hear 
her name no more. Again I pointed with my 


An Unfinished Letter# 301 

right hand, catching Mouraki's arm with my left 
at the same moment. 

There,'* I said, “ there — between the shouh 
ders ! A knife ! " 

I felt his arm tremble. I must do him justice. 
I am convinced that he did not foresee or antici- 
pate this among the results of the letting loose 
of Constantine Stefanopoulos. I heard him clear 
his throat, I saw him lick his lips ; his lids set- 
tled low over his cunning eyes. I turned from 
him to the motionless figure in the chair. 

She was dead, had been dead some little while, 
and must have died instantly on that foul stroke. 
Why had the brute dealt it? Was it mere 
revenge and cruelty, persistently nursed wrath 
at her betrayal of him on St. Tryphon's day? 
Or had some new cause evoked passion from 
him? 

‘‘ Let us lay her here on the sofa,’" I said to 
Mouraki ; ‘‘and you must send some one to look 
after her.” 

He seemed reluctant to help me ; I leaned for- 
ward alone, and, putting my arm round her, 
raised her from the table and set her upright in 
the chair. I rejoiced to find no trace of pain or 
horror on her face. As I looked at her I gave a 
sudden, short sob. I was unstrung, the thing 
was so wantonly cruel and horrible. 

“ He has made good use of his liberty,” I said 


302 


PIxroso: A Romance# 


in a low fierce tone, turning on Mouraki in a sud- 
den burst of anger against the hand that had set 
the villain free. But the Pasha’s composure 
wrapped him like a cloak again. He knew what 
I meant, and read the implied taunt in my words, 
but he answered calmly, — 

'‘We have no proof yet that it was her hus- 
band who killed her.” 

" Who else should ? ” 

He shrugged his shoulders, remarking, No 
proof, I said ; perhaps he did, perhaps not ; we 
don’t know.” 

Help me with her,” said I brusquely. 

Between us we lifted her and laid her on the 
couch, and spread over her a fur rug that draped 
one of the chairs. While this was done we did 
not exchange a word with one another. Mouraki 
uttered a sigh of relief when the task was finished. 

“ I’ll send a couple of women up as soon as we 
get back. Meanwhile the place is guarded and 
nobody can come in. Need we delay longer ? 
It is not a pleasant place.” 

" I should think we might as well go,” I an- 
swered, casting my eye again round the little 
room, to the spot where Vlacho had fallen, en- 
veloped in the curtain which he dragged down 
with him, and to the writing-table that had sup- 
ported the dead body of Francesca. Mouraki’s 
hand was on the door-handle ; he stood there 


An Unfinished Letter* 303 

impatient to be out of the place, waiting for me 
to accompany him. But my last glance had seen 
something new, and with a sudden low exclama- 
tion I darted across the room to the table. I 
had perceived a sheet of paper lying just where 
Francesca’s. head had rested. 

What’s the matter?” asked Mouraki. 

I made him no answer. I seized the piece of 
paper. A pen lay between it and the inkstand. 
On the paper was a line or two of writing ; the 
characters were blurred, as though the dead 
woman’s hair had smeared them before the ink 
was dry. I held it up. Mouraki stepped briskly 
across to me. 

‘‘ Give it to me,” he said, holding out his hand. 
“ It may be something I ought to see.” 

The first hint of action, of new light or a new 
development, restored their cool alertness to my 
faculties. 

Why not something whichT’ought to see, my 
dear Pasha ? ” I asked, holding the paper behind 
my back and facing him. 

You forget the position I hold. Lord Wheat- 
ley. You have no such position.” 

I did not argue that. I walked to the window, 
to get the best of the light. Mouraki followed 
me closely. 

** I’ll read it to you,” said I. There isn’t 
much of it.” 


304 Phroso: A Romance* 

I held it to the light. The Pasha was close by 
my shoulder, his pale face leaning forward to^ 
wards the paper. Straining my eyes on to the 
blurred characters I read ; and I read aloud, 
according to my promise, hearing Mouraki's 
breathing which accompanied my words. 

“ ‘ My lord, take care. He is free. Mouraki 
has set ’ ” 

That was all : a blot followed the last word. 
At that word the pen must have fallen from her 
fingers as her husband’s dagger stole her life. 
We had read her last words. The writing of 
that line saw the moment of her death; did it 
also supply the cause ? If so, not the old 
grudge, but rage at a fresh betrayal of a fresh 
villainy had impelled Constantine’s arm to his 
foul stroke. He had caught her in the act of 
writing it, taken his revenge, and secured his 
safety. 

After I had read, there was silence. The 
Pasha’s face was still by my shoulder. I gazed, 
as if fascinated, on the fatal unfinished note. At 
last I turned and looked him in the face. His 
eyes met mine in unmoved, steely composure. 

I think,” said I, ** that I had a right to read 
the note after all. For, as I guess, the writer 
was addressing it to me and not to you.” 

For a moment Mouraki hesitated; then he 
shrugged his shoulders, saying, — 


An Unfinished Letter* 305 

‘‘ My dear lord, I don’t know to whom it is 
addressed or what it means. Had the unfortu- 
nate lady been allowed to finish it ” 

‘^We should know more than we do now/* I 
interrupted. 

“ I was about to say as much. I see she intro- 
duced my name ; she can, however, have known 
nothing of any course I might be pursuing/* 

** Unless some one who knew told her/* 

Who could?** 

‘‘Well, her husband.** 

“Who was killing her?** he asked with a 
scornful smile. 

“ He may have told her before, and she may 
have been trying to forward the information to 

me.** 

“ It is all the purest conjecture,** shrugged the 
Governor. 

I looked him in the eyes, and I think my eyes 
told him pretty plainly my views of the meaning 
of the note. He answered my glance at first 
with a carefully inexpressive gaze ; but presently 
a meaning came into his eyes ; he seemed to con- 
fess to me and to challenge me to make what use 
I could of the confession. But the next instant 
the momentary candour of his regard passed, and 
blankness spread over his face again. 

Desperately I struggled with myself, clinging 
to self-controL To this day I believe that, had 


3o 6 Phroso t A Romance* 

my life and my life only been in question, I 
should then and there‘_have compelled Mouraki 
to fight me, man to man, in the little gloomy 
room where the dead woman lay on the sofa : we 
should not have disturbed her. And I think also 
that Mouraki, who did not want for courage, 
would have caught at my challenge and cried 
content to a proposal that we should, there and 
then, put our quarrel to an issue, and that one 
only of us should go alive down the hill. I read 
such a mood in his eyes in the moment of their 
candour ; I saw the courage to act on it in his 
resolute lips and his tense, still attitude. 

Well, we could neither of us afford the luxury. 
If I killed him, I should bring grave suspicion on 
Phroso ; she and her islanders would be held 
accomplices ; and, though this was a secondary 
matter to hot rage, I myself should stand in a 
position of great danger. And he could not kill 
me ; for all his schemes against me were still 
controlled and limited by the necessities of his 
position. Had I been an islander, or even an 
unknown man concerning whom no questions 
would be asked, his work would have been 
simple, and, as I believed, would have been 
carried out before now. But it was not so ; he 
would be held responsible for a satisfactory 
account of how I met my death. It would tax his 
invention to give it if he killed me himself, with 


An Unfinished Letten 


307 


his own hand, and in a secret encounter. In 
fact the finding of the note left us where we 
were, so far as action was concerned ; but it tore 
away the last shreds of the veil, the last pretences 
of good faith and friendliness which had been 
kept up between us. In those swift, full, open 
glances which we had exchanged, our undisguised 
quarrel, the great issue between us, was legibly 
written and plainly read. Yet not a word passed 
our lips concerning it. Mouraki and I began to 
need words no more than lovers do ; for hate 
matches love in penetration. 

I put the note in my pocket. Mouraki blinked 
eyes now utterly free from expression. I gave a 
final glance at the dead woman ; I felt a touch of 
shame at having for a moment forgotten her fate 
for my quarrel. 

Shall we go down, Pasha? ” said I. 

“As soon as you please, Lord Wheatley,*' he 
answered. This formal mode of address was per- 
haps an acknowledgment that the time for hypo- 
crisy and the hollow show of friendship between 
us was over. The change was just in his way, 
slight, subtle, but sufficient. 

I followed Mouraki out of the house. He 
walked in his usual slow, deliberate manner. He 
beckoned to the sentry as we passed him, told 
him that two women who would shortly come up 
were to be admitted, but nobody else, until an 


3oS Phfoso: A Romance# 

officer came, bearing further orders. Having 
made these arrangements, he resumed his way 
down, taking his place in front of me and main- 
taining absolute silence. I did not care to talk. 
I had enough to think about. But already, now 
I was out in the fresh air, the feeling of sick 
horror with which the little room had affected 
me began to pass away. I felt braced up again. 
I was better prepared for the great effort which 
loomed before me now as a present and urgent 
necessity. Mouraki had found an instrument ; 
he had set Constantine free, that Constantine 
might do against me what Mouraki himself could 
not do openly. My friends were away. The 
hour of the stroke must even now be upon me. 
Well, the hour of my counter-stroke was come 
also, the counter-stroke for which my interview 
with Phroso and Mouraki’s absence opened the 
way. For he thought the passage no more than 
a mediaeval curiosity ! 

We reached the house and entered the hall 
together. As we passed through the compound 
I had seen an alert sentinel. Looking out from 
the front door, I perceived two men on guard. 
A party of ten or a dozen more was drawn up, 
an officer at its head ; these were the men who 
waited to attend Mouraki on his evening expe- 
dition. The Pasha seated himself and wrote 
a note ; he looked up as he finished it, saying, — 


An Unfinished Letter. 


309 


I am informing the Lady Euphrosyne that 
you will await her here in half-an-hour's time, 
and that she is at liberty to spend what time she 
pleases with you. Is that what you wish?’* 

‘‘ Precisely, your Excellency. I am much 
obliged to you.” 

His only answer was a dignified bow ; but he 
turned to a sub-officer who stood by him at at- 
tention and said : “ On no account allow Lord 
Wheatley to be interrupted this evening. You 
will, of course, keep the sentries on guard behind 
and in front of the house, but do not let them 
intrude here.” 

After giving his orders, the Pasha sat silent for 
some minutes. He had lighted his cigarette, and 
smoked it slowly. Then he let it out — a thing 
I had never seen him do before — lit another, and 
resumed his slow inhalings. I knew that he 
would speak before long, and after a few more 
moments he gave me the result of his medita- 
tions. We were now alone together. 

It would have been much better,” said he, 
if that poor woman — whose fate I sincerely re- 
gret — had been let alone, and this girl had died 
instead of her,” and he nodded at me with con- 
vinced emphasis. 

“ If Phroso had died ! ” leaped from my lips in 
astonishment. 

'‘Yes, if Phroso had died. We would have 


310 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


hanged Constantine together, wept together over 
her grave, and each of us gone home with a 
sweet memory — you to your fianc^e^ I to my 
work. And we should have forgiven one another 
any little causes of reproach/' 

To this speculation in might-have-beens I made 
no answer. The feelings with which I received 
it showed me, had I still needed showing, what 
Phroso was to me. I had been shocked and 
grieved at Francesca's fate, but rather that a 
thousand times than the thing on which Mouraki 
coolly mused ! 

‘‘ It would have been much better, so much 
better," he repeated with a curiously regretful in- 
tonation. 

“ The only thing that would be better to my 
thinking," I said, is that you should behave as 
an honourable man and leave this lady free to do 
as she wishes." 

‘‘And another thing, surely?" he asked, smil- 
ing now. “ That you should behave as an hon- 
ourable man and go back to Miss Hipgrave?" 
A low laugh marked the point he had scored. 
Then he added with his usual shrug, “ We are 
slaves, we men, — slaves all ! " 

He rose from his chair and completed his pre- 
parations for going out, flinging a long military 
cloak over his shoulders. His momentary ir- 
resolution, or remorse, or what you will, had 


An Unfinished Letten 31 1 

passed. His speech became terse and resolute 
again. 

‘‘ We shall meet early to-morrow, I expect,*' he 
said, and then we must settle this matter. Do 
I understand that you are resolved not to yield ? " 

** I am absolutely resolved,** said I, and at the 
sight of his calm, sneering face my temper sud- 
denly got the better of me. ‘‘Yes, Fm resolved. 
You can do what you like. You can bribe ru?- 
fians to assassinate me, as I believe you*ve bribed 
Constantine.** 

He started at that, as a man will at plain 
speech, even though the plain speech tells him 
nothing that he did not know of the speaker's 
mind. 

“ The blood of that unhappy woman is on your 
head,’* I cried vehemently. “ Through your act 
she lies dead. If a like fate befalls me, the 
blame of that will be on your head also. It is 
you, and not your tool, who will be responsible.** 

“ Responsible ! ** he echoed. His voice was 
mocking and easy, though his face was paler 
even than it was wont to be. “Responsible? 
What does that mean ? Responsible to whom ? ’* 

“ To God,’* said I. 

He laughed a low, derisive laugh. 

“ Come, that’s better,** he said. “ I expected 
you to say public opinion. Your sentiment is 
more respectable than that clap-trap of public 


312 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


opinion. So be it. I shall be responsible. Where 
will you be ? He paused, smiling, and ended, 
And where Phroso ? ” 

My self-restraint was exhausted. I sprang up. 
In another moment my hands would have been on 
his throat ; the next I suppose, I should have been 
a prisoner in the hands of his guard. But that 
was not his wish ; he had shown me too much 
now to be content with less than my life : and 
he was not to be turned from his scheme either 
by his own temper or by mine. He had moved 
towards the door while he had been speaking 
to me : as I sprang at him, a quick dexterous 
movement of his hand opened it, a rapid twist of 
his body removed him from my reach. He 
eluded me : the door was shut in my face. The 
Pasha^s low laugh reached me, as I sank back 
again in my chair, still raging that I had not got 
him by the throat, but in an instant glad also 
that my rashness had been foiled. 

I heard the tramp of his party on their orderly 
march along the road from the house. Their 
steps died away, and all was very still. I looked 
round the hall: there was nobody but myself. I 
rose and looked into the kitchen : it was empty. 
Mouraki had kept his word: we were alone. In 
front there were sentries : behind there were sen- 
tries;; but the house was mine. Hope rose again, 
strong and urgent, in my heart, as my eyes fell 


An Unfinished Letter* 313 

on the spot under the staircase where lay the en- 
trance to the secret passage. I looked at my 
watch: it was eleven o’clock: the wind blew 
softly, the night was fine : a crescent moon was 
just visible through the narrow windows. The 
time was come, the time left free by Mouraki’s 
strange oversight. 

It was then, and then only, that a sudden 
gleam of enlightenment, a sudden chilling sus- 
picion, fell upon me, transforming my hope to 
fear, my triumph to doubt and misgiving. Was 
Mouraki Pasha the man to be guilty of an over- 
sight, of so plain an oversight ? When an enemy 
leaves open an obvious retreat, is it always by 
oversight ? When he seems to indicate a way 
of safety, is the way safe ? These disturbing 
thoughts crowded on me as I sat, and I looked 
now at the entrance to the secret passage with 
new eyes. 

The sentries were behind the house : the sen- 
tries were in front of the house : in neither di- 
rection was there any chance of escape. One 
way was open — the passage — and that one way 
only. And I asked the question of myself, fram- 
ing the words in an inarticulate low whisper, “ Is 
this way a trap ? ” 

‘‘You fool — you fool — you fool!’’ I cried, 
beating my fist on the wooden table. 

For if that way were a trap, then there was no 


314 


Phfoso; A Romance* 


way of safety, and the last hope was gone. Had 
Mouraki indeed thought of the passage only as 
a mediaeval curiosity ? Well, were not oubliettes, 
down which a man went and was seen no more, 
also mediaeval curiosities ? 


CHAPTER XVn* 

In the Jaws of the Trap# 

I SAT for some moments in stupefied despair ; 
the fall from hope was so great and sudden, the 
revelation of my blind folly so cruel. But this 
mood did not last long ; soon I was busy think- 
ing again. Alas, the matter gave little scope for 
thought ! It was sadly simple. Before the 
yacht came back, Mouraki would have it settled 
once for all, if the settling of it were left to him. 
Therefore I could not wait. The passage might 
be a trap. True ; but the house was a prison, 
and a prison whose gate I could not open. I had 
rather meet my fate in the struggle of hot effort 
than wait for it tamely, here in my chair. And 
I did not think of myself alone ; Phroso’s interests 
also pointed to action. I could trust Mouraki to 
allow no harm to come to her ; he prized her 
life no less than I did. To her, then, the pas- 
sage threatened no new danger, while it offered 
a possible slender chance. Would she come 
with me? If she would, it might be that Kortes 
and I — or Kortes or I — might by some kind ca- 


3i6 Phtosot A Romance* 

price of fortune bring her safe out of Mouraki’s 
hands. On the top of these calculations came a 
calm, cool, but intense anger, urging me on to 
try the issue, hand to hand and man to man, 
whispering to me that nothing was impossible 
and that Mouraki bore no charmed life. For by 
now I was ready — aye, more than ready — to kill 
him, if only I could come at him, and I made 
nothing of the consequences of his death being 
laid at my door. So is prudence burned up in 
the bright flame of a man’s rage. 

I knew where to find Kortes. He would be 
keeping his faithful watch outside his Lady’s 
room. Mouraki had never raised any objection 
to this attendance; to forbid it would have been 
to throw off the mask before the moment came, 
and Mouraki would not be guilty of such pre- 
mature disclosure ; moreover the Pasha held the 
men of Neopalia in no great respect, and cer- 
tainly did not think that a single islander could 
offer any resistance to his schemes. I went to 
the foot of the stairs and called softly to our 
trusty adherent. He came down to me at once, 
and I asked him about Phroso. 

‘‘She is alone in her room, my lord,’" he an- 
swered. “ The Governor has sent my sister away.” 

“ Sent her away ! Where to ? ” 

“To the cottage on the hill,” said he. “ I don’t 
know why ; the Governor spoke to her apart.” 


In the Jaws of the Trap# 317 

I know why,” said I, and I told him briefly of 
the crime which had been done. 

That man should not live,” said Kortes. “ I 
had no doubt that his escape was allowed in 
order that he might be dangerous to you.” 

Well, he hasn’t done much yet.” 

No, not yet,” said Kortes gravely. I am 
bound to add that he took the news of Fran- 
cesca’s death with remarkable coolness. In spite 
of his good qualities, Kortes was a thorough 
Neopalian ; it needed much to perturb him. Be- 
sides, he was thinking of Phroso only, and the 
affairs of everybody else passed unheeded by 
him. This was very evident when I asked his 
opinion as to waiting where we were or essaying 
the way that Mouraki’s suspicious carelessness 
seemed to leave open to us. 

** Oh, the passage, my lord ! Let it be the pas- 
sage. For you and me the passage is very dan- 
gerous, yet hardly more than here, and the Lady 
Phroso has her only chance of escape through the 
passage.” 

'‘You think it very dangerous for us ? ” 

" Possibly one of us will come through,” he said. 
“ And at the other end ? ” 

“ There may be a boat. If there is none she 
must try (and we with her, if we are alive) to 
steal round to the town, and hide in one of the 
houses till a boat can be found.” 


3^8 Phfosoj A Romance* 

Mouraki would scour the island/' 

‘‘Yes, but a clear hour or two would be 
enough, if we could get her into a boat/' 

“ But he’d send the gunboat after her/' 

“Yes; but, my lord, am I saying that escape 
is likely ? It is possible only ; and possibly the 
boat might evade pursuit/' 

I had the highest regard for Kortes, but he 
was not a very cheering companion for an adven- 
ture. Given the same desperate circumstances, 
Denny would have been serenely confident of 
success and valiantly scornful of our opponent. 
I heaved a regretful sigh for him, and said to 
Kortes, with a little irritation, — 

“ Hang it, we've come out right side up before 
now, and we may again. Hadn't we better 
rouse her?" 

During this conversation Kortes had been 
standing on the lowest step of the staircase, and 
I, facing him, on the floor of the hall, with one 
hand resting on the balustrade. We had talked 
in low tones, partly from a fear of eavesdroppers ; 
even more, I think, from the influence which our 
position exerted over us. In peril men speak 
softly. Our voices sounded as no more than 
faint murmurs in the roomy hall ; consequently 

they could not have been audible where ? In 

the passage ! 

But, as I spoke to Kortes in a petulant, re- 


In the Jaws of the Trap^ 3^9 

proachful whisper, a sound struck on my ear, a 
very little sound. I caught my companion’s arm, 
imposing silence on him by a look. The sound 
came again. I knew it well ; I had heard it 
before. I stepped back a pace and looked 
round the balustrade to the spot where the en- 
trance to the passage lay. 

I should have been past surprise now, after 
my sojourn in Neopalia. But I was not. I 
sprang back with a cry of wonder, almost (must 
I admit it ?) of alarm. Small and faint as the 
noise had been, it had sufficed for the opening of 
the door, and in the opening made by the reced- 
ing of the planks were the head and shoulders of 
a man. His face was hardly a yard from mine ; 
and was the face of Constantine Stefanopoulos. 

In the instant of paralysed immobility that 
followed, the explanation flashed like lightning 
through my brain. Constantine, buying his 
liberty and pardon from Mouraki, had stolen 
along the passage; he had opened the door; he 
hoped to find me alone^ — if not alone, yet off my 
guard — in the hall. Then a single shot would be 
enough ; his errand would be done, his pardon 
won. That my explanation was right, the revol- 
ver in his hand witnessed. But he also was sur- 
prised; I was closer than he thought, so close 
that he started back for an instant. The interval 
was enough : before he could raise his weapon 




320 


Phroso: A Romance# 


and take aim I put my head down between my 
shoulders and rushed at him. I think my head 
knocked his arm up ; his revolver went off, the 
noise reverberating through the hall. I almost 
had hold of him when I was suddenly seized 
from behind and hurled backwards ; Kortes had 
a mind to come first and stood on no ceremony. 
But in the instant that he was free Constantine 
dived down, like a rabbit into a burrow ; he disap- 
peared ; with a shouted oath Kortes sprang after 
him. I heard the feet of both of them clattering 
down the flight of steps. 

For a single moment I paused. The report 
had echoed loud through the hall. The sentries 
must have heard it, — the sentries before the 
house, the sentries in the compound behind the 
house. Yet none of them rushed in; not a 
movement, not a word, not a challenge came 
from them. Mouraki Pasha kept good disci- 
pline; his orders were law, his directions held 
good, though shots rang loud and startling 
through the house. Even at that moment I gave 
a short, sharp laugh ; for I remembered that on 
no account was Lord Wheatley to be interrupted ; 
no, neither Lord Wheatley nor the man who 
came to kill Lord Wheatley was to be inter- 
rupted. Oh, Mouraki, Mouraki, your score was 
mounting up ! Should you ever pay the reckon- 
ing? 


In the Jaws of the Tirap# 32t 

Shorter far than it has taken to write my 
thoughts was the pause during which they gal- 
loped through my palpitating brain. In a second 
I also was down the flight of stairs beyond. I 
heard still the footsteps in front of me, but I 
could see nothing. It was very dark that night 
in the passage. I ran on, yet I seemed to come 
no nearer to the steps in front of me. But sud- 
denly I paused, for now there were steps behind 
me also, light steps, but sounding distinct in my 
ear. Then a voice cried, in terror and distress, 
** My lord, don’t leave me, my lord ! ” 

I turned. Even in the deep gloom I saw a 
gleam of white : a moment later I caught Phroso 
by both her hands. 

The shot, the shot ? she whispered. 

‘‘Constantine. He shot at me — no, Tm not 
hurt. Kortes is after him.” 

She swayed towards me : I caught her and 
passed my arm round her ; without that she 
would have fallen on the rocky floor of the dim 
passage. 

“ I heard it and rushed down,*’ she panted. 
** I heard it from my room.” 

“ Any sign of the sentries ? ” 

“No.” 

“ I must go and help Kortes.” 

“ Not without me ? ” 


“You must wait here.” 


322 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


Not without you.** Her arms held me now 
by the shoulders with a stronger grip than I had 
thought possible. She would not let me go. 
Well, then, we must face it together. 

Come along then,” said I. “ I can see noth* 
ing in this rat-hole.” 

Suddenly from in front of us a cry rang out ; 
it was some distance off : we started towards it, 
for it was Kortes’s voice that cried. 

‘‘ Be careful, be careful,” urged Phroso. “ We’re 
near the bridge now.” 

It was true. As she spoke the walls of rock 
on either side receded ; we had come to the 
opening : the dark water was below us, and be- 
fore us the isolated bridge of rock that spanned 
the pool. We were where the Lord of the island 
had been wont to hurl his enemy headlong from 
his side to death. 

What happened on the bridge, — on the narrow 
bridge of rock which ran in front of us? We 
could not see. But from it came strange sounds, 
low oaths and mutterings, the scraping of men’s 
limbs and the rasping of cloth on the rock, the 
hard breathings of struggling combatants ; now 
a fierce, low cry of triumph, a disappointed curse, 
a desperate groan, the silence that marked a 
culminating effort. Now, straining my eyes to 
the uttermost, and having grown a little more 
accustomed to the darkness, I discerned, beyond 


In the Jaws of the Trap# 323 

the centre of the bridge, a coiling, writhing mass 
that seemed some one many-limbed animal, but 
was in truth two men, twisted and turned round 
about one another in an embrace which could 
have no end save death. Which was Kortes, 
which Constantine, I could not tell; how they 
came there I could not tell ; I dared not fire ; 
Phroso hung about me in a paroxysm of fear, her 
hands holding me motionless ; I myself was awed 
and fascinated by the dim spectacle and the 
confused sounds of that mortal strife. 

Backward and forward, to and fro, up and 
down, they writhed and rolled. Now they hung, 
a protrusion of deeper blackness, over the black 
gulf on this side, now on that. Now the mass 
separated a little as one pressed the other down- 
wards and seemed about to hurl his enemy over 
and himself remain triumphant ; now that one 
in his turn tottered on the edge as if to fall and 
leave the other panting on the bridge. Again 
they were mixed together, so that I could not 
tell which was which, and the strange appear- 
ance of a single writhing, crawling shape re- 
turned. Then suddenly, from both at once, rang 
out cries : there were dread and surprise in one ; 
fierce, uncalculating, self-forgetful triumph in the 
other. Not even for Phroso’s sake or the band 
of her encircling arms could I rest longer. 
Roughly I fear, at least with suddenness, I di^- 


324 Phroso: A Romance* 

engaged myself from her grasp. She cried out 
in protest and in fear, ‘‘ Don't go, don't leave 
me ! I could not rest. Recollecting the peril, 
I yet rushed quickly on to the bridge, and 
moved warily along its narrow, perilous way. 
But even as I came near the two who fought in 
the middle, there was a deep groan, a second 
wild triumphant cry, a great lurch of the mass, a 
moment — a short, short moment — when it hung 
poised over the yawning vault ; and then an in- 
stant of utter stillness. I waited as a boy waits 
to hear the stone he has thrown strike the water 
at the bottom of the well. The stone struck the 
water ; there was a great resounding splash ; the 
water moved beneath the blow ; I saw its dark 
gleam agitated. Then all was still again ; and 
the passage of the bridge was clear. 

I walked to the spot where the struggle had 
been, and whence the two had fallen together. 
I knelt down and gazed into the chasm. Three 
times I called Kortes's name. No answer came 
up. I could discern no movement of the dark 
waters. They had sunk, the two together, and 
neither rose. Perhaps both were wounded to 
death, perhaps only their fatal embrace prevented 
all effort for life. I could see nothing and hear 
nothing. My heart was heavy for Kortes, a 
brave, true man and our only friend ; in the death 
of Constantine I saw less than his fitting punish* 


In the Jaws of the Trap* 325 

ment ; yet I was glad that he was gone and the 
long line of his villainies closed. This last at- 
tempt had been a bold one. Mouraki, no doubt, 
had forced him to it ; even a craven will be bold 
where the penalty of cowardice is death. Yet 
he had not dared to stand when discovered ; he 
had fled, and must have been flying when Kortes 
came up and grappled with him. For a snap- 
shot at an unwary man he had found courage, 
but not for a fair fight. He was an utter coward 
after all ; he was well dead and his wife well 
avenged. 

But it was fatal to linger here. Mouraki would 
be expecting the return of his emissary. I saw 
now clearly that the Pasha had prepared the way 
for Constantine’s attempt. If no news came, he 
would not wait long. I put my reflections be- 
hind me and walked briskly back to where I had 
left Phroso. I found her lying on the ground ; 
she seemed to be in a faint ; setting my face close 
to hers I saw that her eyes were shut and her 
lips parted; I sat down by her in the narrow 
passage and supported her head on my arm. 
Then I took out a flask, and pouring some of 
the brandy-and-water it contained into the cup, 
forced a little between her lips. With a heavy 
sigh she opened her eyes and shuddered. 

It is over,” I said. ‘‘ There’s no need to be 
afraid ; all is over now.” 


326 Phfoso: A Romance* 

Constantine ? ” 

He is dead/' 

“ And Kortes ? ” 

“ They are both gone. They fell together into 
the pool and must be dead ; there's no sound 
from it." 

A frightened sob was her answer ; she put her 
hand up to her eyes. 

Ah, dear Kortes ! " she whispered, and I 
heard her sob gently again. 

‘‘He was a brave man," said I. “God rest his 
soul." 

“ He loved me," she said simply, between her 
sobs. “ He — he and his sister were the only 
friends I had." 

“You have other friends," said I, and my voice 
was well-nigh as low as hers. 

“You are very good to me, my lord," she said, 
and she conquered her sobs and lay still, her 
head on my arm, her hair enveloping my hand in 
its silken masses. 

“ We must go on," said I. “We mustn't stay 
here. Our only chance is to go on." 

“ Chance ? Chance of what ? " she echoed in a 
little despairing murmur. “ Where am I to go ? 
Why should I struggle any more ? " 

“Would you fall into Mouraki's power?" I 
asked from between set lips. 

“No; but I need not. I have my dagger." 


327 


In the Jaws of the Trap* 

God forbid ! I cried in sudden horror ; and 
in spite of myself I felt my hand tighten and 
press her head among the coils of her hair. She 
also felt it ; she rai'^ed herself on her elbow, 
turned to me, and sent a^^^training look into my 
eyes. What answer could I make to it ? I 
averted my face ; she dropped her head between 
her hands on the rocky floor. 

‘‘ We must go,'* said I again. Can you walk, 
Phroso?" 

I did not notice the name I called her, nor did 
she appear to mark it. 

I can’t go,” she moaned. Let me stay 
here. I can get back to the house, perhaps.” 

I won’t leave you here. I won’t leave you 
to Mouraki.” 

It will not be to Mouraki, it will be to ” 

I caught her hand, crying in a low whisper. 

No, no ! ” 

What else ? ” she asked, again sitting up and 
looking at me. 

‘‘We must make a push for safety, as we 
meant to before.” 

“Safety?” Her lips bent in a sadly derisive 
little smile. “ What is this safety you talk 
about ? ” she seemed to say. 

“ Yes, safety.” 

“ Ah, yes, you must be safe,” she said, appear- 
ing to awake suddenly to a consciousness of 


328 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


something forgotten. Ah, yes, my lord, you 
must be safe. Don’t linger, my lord.^ Don’t 
finger ! ” 

Do you suppose I’m going alone?” I asked, 
and in spite of everything I could not help smil- 
ing as I put the question. I believe she really 
thought that the course in question might com- 
mend itself to me. 

‘‘No,” she said. “You wouldn’t go alone. 
But I 1 can’t cross that awful bridge.” 

“ Oh yes, you can,” said 1. “ Come along,’ 

and I rose and held out my arms towards her. 

She looked at me, the tears still on her cheeks^ 
a doubtful smile dawning on her lips.- 

“ My dear lord,” she said very softly, and stood 
while I put my arms round her and lifted her till 
she lay easily. Then came what I think was the 
hardest thing of all to bear. She let her head 
fall on my shoulder and lay trustfully — I could 
almost say luxuriously — back in my arms ; a 
little happy sigh of relief and peace came from 
her lips, her eyes closed, she was content. 

Well, I started; and I shall not record pre- 
cisely what I thought as I started. What I 
ought to have thought about was picking my 
way over the bridge, and if more matter for con- 
sideration were needed, I might have speculated 
on the best thing to do when we reached the 
outlet of this passage. Suppose, then, that I 




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In the Jaws of the Trap* 329 

thought about what I ought to have thought 
about. 

Keep still while we’re on the bridge,” said I 
to Phroso. It’s not over broad, you know.” 

A little movement of the head, till it rested in 
yet greater seeming comfort, was Phroso’s only 
disobedience ; for the rest she was absolutely still. 
It was fortunate ; for to cross that bridge in the 
dark, carrying a lady, was not a job I cared much 
about. However, we came to the other side; 
the walls of rock closed in again on either hand, 
and I felt the way begin to slope downwards un- 
der my feet. 

Does it go pretty straight now?” I asked. 

Oh, yes, quite straight. You can’t miss it, 
my lord,” said Phroso, and another little sigh of 
content followed the words. I had, I suppose, 
little enough to laugh at, but I did laugh very 
gently and silently, and I did not propose that 
Phroso should walk. 

“ Are you tired ? ” she said presently, just 
opening her eyes for an instant. 

‘‘ I could carry you for ever,” I answered. 

Phroso smiled under lazy lids that closed 
again. 

In spite of Phroso’s assurance of its simple 
straightness the road had many twists and turns 
in it, and I had often to ask my way. Phroso 
gave me directions at once and without hesita- 


3^0 Phroso; A Romance. 

tion. Evidently she was thoroughly familiar 
with the track. When I remarked on this she 
said, Oh, yes, I often used to come this way. 
It leads to such a pretty cave, you know.'' 

‘‘Then it doesn't come out at the same point 
as the way my friends took ? " 

“ No, more than a mile away from that. We 
must be nearly there now. Are you tired, my 
lord?" 

“ Not a bit," said I, and Phroso accepted the 
answer without demur. 

There can, however, be no harm in admitting 
now that I was tired, not so much from carrying 
Phroso, though, as from the strain of the day 
and the night that I had passed through ; and I 
hailed with joy a glimmer of light which danced 
before my eyes at the end of a long straight tun- 
nel. We were going down rapidly now; and, 
hark, there was the wash of water welcoming us 
to the outer air and the light of the upper world ; 
for day had just dawned as we came to the end 
of the way. The light that I saw ahead was 
ruddy with the rays of the new-risen sun. 

“ Ah," sighed Phroso happily, “ I hear the 
sea. Oh, I smell it. And see, my lord, the 
light!" 

I turned from the light, joyful as was the 
beholding of it, to the face which lay close by 
mine. That, too, I could see now for the first 


in the jaws of the TTrap^ 331 

time plainly. I met Phroso's eyes. A slight 
tinge of colour dyed her cheeks, but she lay still, 
looking at me ; and she said softly in low, rich 
tones, — 

‘'You look very weary. Let me walk now, 
my lord.’' 

“ No, we’ll go on to the end now,” I said. 

The end was near. Another five minutes 
brought us where, once again, the enfolding 
walls spread out ; the path broadened into a 
stony beach ; above us the rocks formed an arch ; 
we were in a little cave, and the waves rolled 
gently to and fro on the margin of the beach. 
The mouth of the cave was narrow and low, the 
rocks leaving only about a yard between them- 
selves above and the water below ; there was 
just room for a boat to pass out and in. Phroso 
sprang from my arms, and streched out her hands 
to the light. 

“Ah, if we had a boat!” I cried, running to 
the water’s edge. 

Had the luck indeed changed and fortune 
begun to smile ? It seemed so, for I had hardly 
spoken when Phroso suddenly clapped her hands 
and cried, — 

“ A boat ! There is a boat, my lord,” and she 
sprang forward and caught me by the hand, her 
eyes sparkling. 

It was true — by marvel it was true ! A good, 


332 


Plifoso: A Romance 


stout, broad-bottomed little fishing-boat lay 
beached on the shingle, with its sculls lying in it. 
How had it come ? Well, I didn't stop to ask 
that ; my eyes met Phroso's in delight. The joy 
of our happy fortune overcame us. I think that 
for the moment we forgot the terrible events 
which had happened before our eyes, the sadness 
of the parting which, at the best, lay before us. 
Both her hands were in mine ; we were happy 
as two children prosperously launched on some 
wonderful fairy-tale adventure — Prince and Prin- 
cess in their cockle-boat on a magic sea. 

Isn’t it wonderful ? ” cried Phroso. ‘‘ Ah, 
my lord, all goes well with you. I think God 
loves you, my lord, as much as ” 

She stopped. A rush of rich colour flooded 
her cheeks. Her deep eyes, which had gleamed 
in exultant merriment, sank to the ground. Her 
hands loosed mine. 

as the lady who waits for you loves you, 

my lord,” she said. 

I do not know how it was, but Phroso’s words 
summoned up before my eyes a vision of Beatrice 
Hipgrave pursuing her cheerful way through the 
gaieties of the season — or was she in the country 
by now ? — without wasting very many thoughts 
on the foolish man who had gone to the horrid 
island. The picture of her as the lady who 
waited for a lover, forlorn because he tarried, 


333 


In the Jaws of the Trap* 

struck with a bitter amusement on my sense of 
humour. Phroso saw me smile ; her eyes asked 
a wondering question. I did not answer it, but 
turned away and walked down to where the boat 
lay. 

‘‘ I suppose,'’ I said coldly, that this is the 
best chance? " 

‘‘It is the only chance, my lord,” she an- 
swered ; but her eyes were still puzzled, and her 
tone was almost careless, as if the matter of our 
escape had ceased to be the thing which pressed 
most urgently on her mind. I could say nothing 
to enlighten her ; not from my lips, which longed 
to forswear her, could come the slightest word 
in depreciation of “ the lady who waited.” 

“Will you get in then?” I asked. 

“Yes,” said Phroso. The joy was gone out of 
her voice and out of her eyes. 

I helped her into the boat, then I launched it ; 
when it floated clear on the water of the cave I 
jumped in myself and took the sculls. Phroso 
sat silent and now pale-faced in the stern. I 
struck the water with my blades and the boat 
moved. A couple of strokes took us across the 
cave. We reached the mouth. I felt the sun on 
my neck with its faint early warmth ; that is a 
good feeling and puts heart in a man. 

“ Ah, but the sea and the air are good,” said 
Phroso. “ And it is good to be free, my lord.” 


334 


Phfosos A Romance. 


I looked at her ; the sun had caught her eyes 
now, and the gleam in them seemed to fire me. 
I forgot something that I ought to have re- 

membered. I rested for a moment on my oars, 
and, leaning forward, said in a low voice, — 

Aye, to be free, and together, Phroso/" 

Again came the flash of colour, again the sud- 
den happy dancing of her eyes, and the smile 
that curved in unconquerable willfulness ; I 
stretched out a hand, and Phroso’s hand stole 
timidly to meet it. Well — surely the Recording 
Angel looked away ! 

Thus were we, just outside the cave ; there 
rose a straight rock on the left hand, ending in a 
level top some four feet above our heads. And 
as our hands approached, and our eyes — those 
quicker foregatherers — met, there came from the 
top of the rock a laugh, a low chuckle that I 
knew well. I don’t think I looked up ; I looked 
still at Phroso. As I looked, her colour fled, 
fright leaped into her eyes, her lips quivered in 
horror. I knew the truth from her face. 

‘Wery nice! But what have you done with 
Cousin Constantine?” asked Mouraki Pasha. 

The trap, then, had double jaws, and we had 
escaped Constantine only to fall into the hands 
of his master. It was so like Mouraki, I was so 
much aghast and yet so little surprised, the fall 
was so sudden, our defeat so ludicrous, that I be- 


In the Jaws of the Tfap» 335 

lieve I smiled as I turned my eyes from Phroso’s 
and cast a glance at the Pasha. 

I might have known it, you know,’’ said I 
aloud. 


CHAPTER XVnL 
The Unknown Friend# 

The boat still moved a little from the impulse 
of my last stroke, and we floated slowly past 
Mouraki, who stood like some great sea-bird on 
the rock. To his cynical question — for it re- 
vealed shamelessly the use he had meant to make 
of his tool — I returned no answer. I could smile 
in amused bitterness, but for the moment I 
could not speak. Phroso sat with downcast 
eyes, twisting one hand round the other ; the 
Pasha was content to answer my smile with his 
own. The boat drew past the rock, and, as we 
came round its elbow, I found across our path a 
larger boat, manned by four of Mouraki's soldiers, 
who had laid down their oars and sat rifles in 
hand ; in the coxswain’s place was Demetri ; it 
seemed strange to find him in that company. 
One of the soldiers took hold of the nose of our 
boat and turned it round, impelling it towards 
the beach. A moment later we grated on the 
shingle, where the Pasha, who had leaped down 
nimbly from his perch, stood awaiting us. 


The Unknown Ftkndi 


337 


Thoughts had been running rapidly through my 
brain, wild thoughts of resistance, of a sudden 
rush, of emptying my revolver haphazard into 
the other boat, — aye, even of assassinating Mou- 
raki with an unexpected shot. All that was folly ; 
I let it go, sprang from the boat, and, giving my 
hand to Phroso, helped her to land, and led her 
to a broad, smooth ledge of rock, on which she 
seated herself, still silent, but giving me a look 
of grief and despair. Then I turned to the Pasha. 

I think,” said I, “ that you’ll have to wait a 
day or two for Cousin Constantine. Fm told 
that bodies don’t find their way out so soon as 
living men.” 

'‘Ah, I thought that must belt! You threw 
him down into the pool ? ” he asked. 

" No, not I. My friend Kortes.” 

“ And Kortes ? ” 

" They fell together.” 

How very dramatic,” smiled the Pasha. 
" How came you to let Kortes have at him 
first ? ” 

" Believe me, it was unintentional ; it was 
without any design of disappointing you, Pasha.” 

“ And there’s an end of both of them ! ” said 
he, smiling at my hit. 

“They must both be dead. Forgive me, 
Pasha, but I don’t understand your comedy. 
We were in your power at the house ; why play 


338 


Phroso: A Romance* 


this farce? Why not have done then what I 
presume you will do now? 

‘‘ My dear lord/* said he, after a glance round 
to see that nobody listened, ‘‘the conventions 
must be observed. Yesterday you had not com- 
mitted the offences of which I regret to say you 
have now been guilty.** 

“The offences ? You amuse me, Pasha.** 

“ I don*t grudge it you,** said Mouraki. “Yes, 
the offences of aiding my prisoner — that lady — • 
to escape, and — well, the death of Constantine is 
at least a matter for inquiry, isn*t it? You*H 
admit that ? The man was a rogue, of course, 
but we must observe the law, my dear Wheat- 

ley. Besides ** He paused, then he added : 

“You mustn*t grudge me my amusement, either. 
Believe me, your joy at finding that boat, which 
I caused to be placed there for your convenience, 
and the touching little scene which I interrupted, 
occasioned me infinite diversion.** 

I made no answer, and he continued, — 

“ I was sure that if well, if Constantine 

failed in perpetrating his last crime — you follow 
me, my dear lord? — you would make for the 
passage, so I obtained the guidance of that faith- 
ful [fellow, Demetri, and he brought us round 
very comfortably. Indeed we*ve been waiting 
some little while for you. Of course Phroso de- 
layed you.’* 


The Unknown Friend# 339 

Mouraki’s sneers and jocularity had no power 
in themselves to anger me. Indeed I felt my- 
self cool and calm, ready to bandy retorts and 
banter with him. But there was another char- 
acteristic of his conversation on which my mind 
fastened, finding in it matter for thought ; this 
was his barefaced frankness. Plainly he told me 
that he had employed Constantine to assassinate 
me, plainly he exposed to me the trick by which 
he had obtained a handle against me. Now to 
whom, if to any one, does a man like Mouraki 
Pasha reveal such things as these ? Why to 
men — and only to men — who will tell no tales. 
And there is a proverb which hints that only 
one class of men tell no tales. That was why 
I attached significance to the Governor's frank- 
ness. 

I believe the man followed my thoughts with 
his wonderfully acute intelligence and his power 
of penetrating the minds of others ; for he smiled 
again as he said, — 

‘‘ I don't mind being frank with you, my dear 
Wheatley. I'm sure you won't use the little ad- 
missions I may seem to make against me. How 
grieved you must be for your poor friend 
Kortes ! ” 

‘‘ We've both lost a friend this morning, Pasha." 

‘‘Constantine? Ah, yes. Still — he’s as well 
where he is, — just as well where he is." 


340 Phtosot A Romance^ 

He won’t be able to use your little admissions 
either?” 

How you catch my meaning, my dear lord ! 
It’s pleasure to talk to you.” But he turned 
suddenly from me, and called to his men. Three 
came up at once. ''This gentleman,” he said, 
indicating me, and speaking now in sharp, au- 
thoritative tones, "is in your custody for the 
present. Don’t let him move.” 

I seated’myself on a rock ; the three men stood 
round me. The Pasha bowed slightly, walked 
down to where Phroso sat, and began to speak 
with her. So at least I supposed, but I did not 
hear anything that he said ; his back was towards 
me, and he hid Phroso from my view. I took 
out my flask and had a pull at my brandy-and- 
water ; it was a poor breakfast, but I was offered 
no other. 

Up to this time the fourth soldier and Demetri 
had remained in the boat. They now landed 
and hauled their boat up on to the beach ; then 
they turned to the smaller boat which the Pasha 
had provided in malicious sport for our more 
complete mortification. The soldier laid hold of 
its stern and prepared to haul it also out of the 
water ; but Demetri said something — what, I 
could not hear — and shrugged his shoulders. 
The soldier nodded in apparent assent, and they 
left the boat where it was, merely attaching it by 


The Unknown Friend# 


341 


a rope to the other. Then they walked to the 
rocks and sat down at a little distance from where 
I was, Demetri taking a hunch of bread and a 
large knife from his pocket and beginning to cut 
and munch. I looked at him, but he refused to 
meet my eye and glanced in every direction ex- 
cept at me. 

Suddenly, while I was idly regarding Demetri, 
the three fellows sprang on me. One had me by 
each arm before I could so much as move. The 
third dashed his hand into the breast-pocket of 
my coat and seized my revolver. They leaped 
away again, caught up the rifles they had 
dropped, and held them levelled towards me. 
The thing was done in a moment, I sitting like a 
man paralysed. Then one of the ruffians cried, — 

‘‘Your Excellency, the gentleman moved his 
hand to his pocket, — to his pistol.” 

“What?” asked Mouraki, turning round. 
“ Moved his hand to a pistol ? Had he a pistol ? ” 

My revolver was held up as damning evidence. 

“ And he tried to use it ? ” asked Mouraki in 
mournful, shocked tones. 

“ It looked like it,” said the fellow. 

“ It’s a lie. I wasn’t thinking of it,” said I. 
I was exasperated at the trick. I had made up 
my mind to fight it out sooner than give up the 
revolver. 

“ I’m afraid it may have been so,” said Mou- 


342 


Phroso: A Romance# 


raki, shaking his head. “ Give the pistol to me, 
my man. Til keep it safe.” His eye shot trh 
umph at me as he took my revolver and turned 
again to Phroso. I was now powerless indeed. 

Demetri finished his hunch of bread, and be- 
gan to clean his knife, polishing its blade leisurely 
and lovingly on the palm of his hand, and feeling 
its point with the end of his thumb. During this 
operation he hummed softly and contentedly to 
himself. I could not help smiling when I recog- 
nised the tune ; it was an old friend, the chant that 
One-eyed Alexander wrote on the death of Stefan 
Stefanopoulos two hundred years ago. Demetri 
polished, and Demetri hummed, and Demetri 
looked away across the blue water with a specu- 
lative eye. I did not choose to consider what 
might be in the mind of Demetri as he hummed 
and polished and gazed over the sea that girt his 
native island. Demetri's thoughts were his own. 
Let Mouraki look to them, if they were worth his 
care. 

There, I have made that confession as plainly 
as I mean to make it. I put out of my mind 
what Demetri might be planning as he polished 
his knife and hummed One-eyed Alexander’s 
chant. 

Apparently Mouraki did not think the matter 
worth his care. He had approached very near 
to Phroso now, leaning down towards her as she 


The Unknown Friend* 


343 


sat on the rock. Suddenly I heard a low cry of 
terror and ‘‘No, no*’ in horrified accents; but 
Mouraki, raising his voice a little, answered, 
“ Yes, yes.” 

I strained my ears to hear; nay, I half rose 
from where I sat, and sank back only under the 
pointed hint of a soldier’s bayonet. I could not 
hear the words, but a soft, pleading murmur 
came from Phroso, a short, relentless laugh from 
Mouraki, a silence, a shrug of Mouraki’s shoul- 
ders. Then he turned and came across to me. 

“ Stand back a little,” said he to the soldiers, 
“ but keep your eyes on your prisoner, and if he 
attempts any movement ” He did not fin- 

ish the sentence, which indeed was plain enough 
without a formal ending. Then he began to 
speak to me in French. 

“A beautiful thing, my dear lord,” said he, 
“is the devotion of women. Fortunate are you 
who have found two ladies to love you ! ” 

“You’ve been married twice yourself, I think 
you told me? ” 

“ It’s not exactly the same thing — not neces- 
sarily. I am very likely to be married a third 
time, but I fear I should flatter myself if I 
thought that much love would accompany the 
lady’s hand. However it was of you that I de- 
sired to speak. This lady here, my dear lord, is 
so attached to you that I believe she will marry 


344 Phroso: A Romance* 

me, purely to ensure your safety. Isn’t it a touch- 
ing sacrifice ? ” 

“ I hope she’ll do nothing of the sort,” said 1. 

‘‘ Well, it’s little more than a polite fiction,” he 
conceded. “ For she’ll be compelled to marry 
me anyhow. But it’s the sort of idea that com- 
forts a woman.” 

He fixed his eyes on me as he made this re- 
mark, enjoying the study of its effect on me. 

Well,” said I, ‘‘ I never meant to marry her. 
I’m bound, you know. It was only another polite 
fiction designed to annoy you, my dear Pasha.” 

‘‘ Ah, is that so ? Now, really that’s amusing,” 
— and he chuckled. He did not appear annoyed 
at having been deceived. I wondered a little at 
that — then. 

“We have really,” he continued, “been living 
in an atmosphere of polite fictions. For ex- 
ample, Lord Wheatley, there was a polite fiction 
that I was grieved at Constantine’s escape.” 

“ And another that you were anxious to re- 
capture him.” 

“And a third that you were not anxious to 
escape from my hospitality.” 

“And a fourth that you were so solicitous for 
my friends’ enjoyment that you exerted yourself 
to find them good fishing.” 

“Ah, yes, yes,” he laughed. “And there is to 
be one more polite fiction, my dear lord.” 


The Unknown Frieni 


345 


** I believe I can guess it/' said I, meeting his eye. 

You are always so acute/' he observed admir- 
ingly. 

‘‘Though the precise form of it I confess I 
don't understand. 

“ Well, our lamented Constantine, who had 
much experience, but rather wanted imagination, 
was in favour of a fever. He told me that it was 
the usual device in Neopalia." 

“ His wife died of it, I suppose?” I believe 
I smiled as I put the question. Great as my 
peril was, I still found a pleasure in fencing with 
the Pasha. 

“Oh, no. Now, that's unworthy of you. 
Never have a fiction when the truth will serve ! 
Since he's dead, he murdered his wife. If he had 
lived, of course '' 

“ Ah, then it would have been fever.” 

“ Precisely. We must adapt ourselves to cir- 
cumstances; that is the part of wise men. Now 

in your case '' He bent down and looked 

hard in my face. 

“ In my case,” said I, “ you can call it what 
you like, Pasha.” 

“ Don't you think that the outraged patriotism 

of Neopalia ? ” he suggested with a smile. 

“You bought the island you, a stranger! It 

was very rash. These islanders are desperate 
fellows.” 


Phrosoj A Romance* 


346 

^‘That would have served with Constantine 
alive, but he’s dead. Your patriot is gone, 
Pasha.” 

‘‘Alas, yes, our good Constantine is dead. 
But there are others. There’s a fellow whom I 
ought to hang.” 

“ Ah ? ” My eyes wandered towards where 
Demetri hummed and polished. 

“ And has certainly not earned his’ life merely 
by bringing me to'meet you this morning, though 
I give him some credit for that.” 

“ Demetri ? ” I asked with a careless air. 

“ Well, yes, Demetri,” smiled the Pasha^ 
“ Demetri is very open to reason.” 

Across the current of our talk came Demetrfs 
soft, happy humming. The Pasha heard it. 

“ I hanged his brother three years ago,” he 
observed. 

“ I know you did,” said I. “You seem to have 
done some characteristic things three years ago.*^ 

“And he went to the gallows humming that 
tune. You know it?” 

“Very well indeed, Pasha. It was one of the 
first things I heard in Neopalia: it’s going to be 
one of the last, perhaps.” 

“ That tune lends a great plausibility to my 
little fiction,” said Mouraki. 

“ It will no doubt be a very valuable confirma- 
tion of it,” I rejoined. 


The Unknown Friend* 


347 


The Pasha made no further remark for a mo- 
ment. I looked past him and past the four sol- 
diers — for the last had now joined his comrades 
— to Phroso. She was leaning against the cliff- 
side ; her head was thrown back and her face up- 
turned, but her eyes were closed. I think she 
had swooned or at least sunk into a half-uncon- 
scious state. Mouraki detected my glance. 

Look at her well, use your time,*’ he said in 
a savage tone. “You’ve not long to enjoy the 
sight of her.” 

“ I have as long as it may happen to please 
God,” said I. “ Neither you nor I know how 
long.” 

“ I can make a guess,” observed Mouraki, a 
quiet smile succeeding his frown. 

“ Yes, you can make a guess.” 

He stood looking at me a moment longer. 
Then he turned away : as he passed the soldiers 
he spoke to them. I saw them smile. No doubt 
he had picked his men for this job and could 
rely on them. 

The little bay in which we were was sur- 
rounded by steep and precipitous cliffs except in 
one place. Here there was a narrow cleft ; the 
rocks did not rise abruptly ; the ground sloped 
gradually upwards as it receded from the beach. 
Just on this spot of gently rising ground Demetri 
sat, and the Pasha, having amused himself with 


34^ Phfoso: A Romance* 

me for as long as it pleased him, walked up to 
Demetri. The fellow sprang to his feet and 
saluted Mouraki with great respect. Mouraki 
beckoned to him to come nearer, and began to 
speak to him. 

I sat still where I was, under the bayonets of 
the soldiers, who faced me and had their backs to 
their commander. My eyes were fixed steadily 
on the pair who stood conferring on the slope ; 
and my mind was in a ferment. Scruples troubled 
me no more ; Mouraki himself had made them 
absurd. I read my only chance of life in the 
choice or caprice of the wild, passionate barbarian 
— he was little else — who stood with head meekly 
bowed and knife carelessly dangled in his hand. 
This man was he of whom Panayiota had spoken 
so mysteriously ; he was the friend whom I had 
‘‘more than I knew of;'' in his blood-feud with 
the Pasha, in his revengeful wrath, lay my chance. 
It was only a chance indeed, for the soldiers 
might kill me. But it was a chance, and there 
was no other. For if Mouraki won him over by 
promises or bribes, or intimidated him into doing 
his will, then Demetri would take the easier task, 
— that which carried no risk and did not involve 
his own death, as an attack on the Pasha almost 
certainly would. Would he be prudent and turn 
his hand against the single helpless man ? Or 
would his long-nursed rage stifle all care for him- 


The Unknown Friends 


349 


self and drive him against Mouraki ? If so, if he 
chose that way, there was a glimmer of hope. I 
glanced at Phroso's motionless figure and pallid 
face : I glanced at the little boat that floated on 
the water (why had Demetri not beached it ?) ; I 
glanced at the rope which bound it to the other 
boat : I measured the distance between the boats 
and myself ; I thrust my hand into the pocket of 
my coat and contrived to open the blade of my 
clasp-knife, which was now the only weapon left 
to me. 

Mouraki spoke and smiled ; he made no ges- 
ture, but there was just a movement of his eyes 
towards me ; Demetri’s eyes followed his for an 
instant, but would not dwell on my face. The 
Pasha spoke again ; Demetri shook his head, and 
Mouraki’s face assumed a persuasive, good-hu- 
moured expression ; Demetri glanced round appre- 
hensively. The Pasha took him by the arm and 
they went a few paces further up the slope, so as 
to be more private in their talk : but was that the 
object with both of them ? Still Demetri shook 
his head. The Pasha's smile vanished, his mouth 
grew stern, his eyes cold, and he frowned. He 
spoke in short, sharp sentences, the snap of his 
lips showing when his mind was spoken. Deme- 
tri seemed to plead, he looked uneasy, he shifted 
from foot to foot, he drew back from the imperi- 
ous man, as though he shunned him and would 


35° Phfoso: A Romance* 

fain escape from him. Mouraki would not let 
him go, but followed him in his retreat, step for 
step ; thus another ten yards were put between 
them and me. Anger and contempt blazed now 
on Mouraki's facej he raised his hand and brought 
it down clenched on the palm of the other. 
Demetri held out his hand as though in protest 
or supplication. The Pasha stamped with his 
foot. There were no signs of relenting in his 
manner. 

My eyes grew weary with intent watching : I 
felt like a man who has been staring at a bright 
white light, too fascinated by its intensity to 
blink or turn away, even though it pains him to 
look longer. The figures of the two seemed to 
become indistinct and blurred. I rubbed my 
knuckles into my eyes to clear my vision, and 
looked again. Yes, they were a little farther off, 
even still a little farther off than when I had 
looked before. It could not be by chance and 
unwittingly that Demetri always and always and 
always gave back a pace, luring the Pasha to 
follow him. No, there was a plan in his head : and 
in my heart suddenly came a great beat of savage 
joy — of joy at the chance heaven gave, yes, and 
of lust for the blood of the man against whom I 
had so mighty a debt of wrong. And, as I gazed 
now, for an instant — a single barely perceptible 
instant — came the swiftest message from Deme- 


The Unknown Friend* 351 

tri’s eyes. I read it ; I knew its meaning. I sat 
where I was, but every muscle of my body was 
tense and strung in readiness for that desperate 
leap, and every nerve of me quivered with a re- 
pressed excitement that seemed almost to kill. 
Now! Now! Was it now? I was within an ace 
of crying Strike ! But I held the word in and 
still gazed. And the soldiers leaned easily on 
their bayonets, exchanging a word or two now 
and again, yawning sometimes, weary of a dull 
job, wondering when his Excellency would let 
them get home again ; of what was going on be- 
hind their backs, there on the slope of the cliff, 
they took no heed. 

Ah, there was a change now! Demetri had 
ceased to protest, to deprecate and to retreat. 
Mouraki’s frowns had vanished, he smiled again 
in satisfaction and approval. Demetri threw a 
glance at me. Mouraki spoke. Demetri an- 
swered. For an instant I looked at the soldiers; 
they were more weary and inattentive than ever. 
Back went my eyes ; now Mouraki, with suave 
graciousness, in condescending recognition of a 
good servant, stepped right close up to Demetri, 
and, raising his hand, reached round the fellow’s 
shoulder and patted him approvingly on the 
back. 

It will be now ! ” I thought, — nay, I believe 
I whispered, — and I drew my legs up under me 


352 


Phroso: A Romance# 


and grasped the hidden knife in my pocket. 
** Yes, it must be now ! 

Mouraki patted, laughed, evidently praised ; 
Demetri bowed his head. But his long, lithe, 
bare, brown right arm that had hung so weary a 
time in idle waiting by his side — the arm whose 
hand held the great bright blade so lovingly 
polished, so carefully tested — the arm began 
slowly and cautiously to crawl up his side. It 
bent at the elbow, it rested a moment after its 
stealthy, secret climb. Then, quick as lightning, 
it flew above Demetri’s head, the blade sparkled 
in the sun, the hand swooped down, and the 
gleams of the sunlit steel were quenched in the 
body of Mouraki. With a sudden cry of amaze- 
ment, of horror, and of agony the Pasha staggered 
and fell prone on the rocky ground. And 
Demetri cried, ‘‘ At last, my God, at last ! ** and 
laughed aloud. 


C3iAPTER XDC 
The Armenian Dog I 

The death-cry that Mouraki Pasha uttered 
under Demetri’s avenging knife seemed to touch 
a spring and set us all a-moving. The sound of it 
turned the soldiers' idle lassitude into an amazed 
wonder, which again passed in an instant to fierce 
excitement. Phroso leaped with a shriek to her 
feet. I hurled myself across the space between 
me and the rope, knife in hand. The soldiers, 
neglecting their unarmed prisoner, turned with a 
shout of rage and rushed wildly up the slope to 
where Demetri stood, holding his blade towards 
heaven. The rope parted under my impetuous 
assualt : Phroso was by my side ; in an instant 
we were in the boat ; I pushed off ; I seized the 
sculls. But then I hesitated. Was this man my 
friend, my ally, my accomplice, what you will ? 
I looked up the slope. Demetri stood by the 
body of Mouraki : the four soldiers rushed 
towards him. I could not approve his deed : but 
I had suffered it to be done ; I must not run 
away now. I pushed the sculls into Phroso's 


354 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


hands. But she had caught my purpose, and 
threw herself upon me, twining her arms about 
me and crying, No, no, my lord ! My lord, no, 
no!'' Her love gave her strength; for a mo- 
ment I could not disengage myself, but stood 
fast bound in her embrace. 

The moment was enough : it was the end, the 
end of that brief fierce drama on the rocky slope, 
the end of any power I might have had to aid 
Demetri. For he did not try to defend himself. 
He stood still as a statue where he was, holding 
the knife up to heaven, the smile which his loud 
laugh left still on his lips. Phroso’s head sank 
on my shoulder: she would not look. But the 
sight drew my eyes with an irresistible attraction. 
The bayonets flashed in the air and buried them- 
selves in Demetri's body. He sank with a groan. 
Again the blades, drawn back, were driven into 
him, and again, and again. He was a mangled 
corpse, but in hot revenge for their leader they 
thrust and thrust. It turned me sick to look; 
yet I looked till at last they ceased, and stood 
for an instant over the two bodies, regarding 
them. Then I loosed Phroso's arms off me ; she 
sank back in the stern ; again I took the sculls, 
and laid to with a will. Where we were to go, or 
what help we could look for, I did not know ; 
but a fever to be away from the place had come 
on me, and I pulled, thinking less of life and 


The Armenian Dog I 355 

safety than of putting distance between me and 
that hideous scene. 

‘^They don't move," whispered Phroso, whose 
eyes were now turned away from me and fixed 
on the beach. ‘‘ They stand still. Row, my 
lord, row ! " ^ 

A moment passed. I pulled with all my 
strength. She was between me and the land ; I 
could see nothing. Her voice came again, low 
but urgent, — 

‘‘Now they move, they're coming down to the 
shore. Ah, my lord, they're taking aim ! 

“God help us," said I between my teeth. 
“ Crouch in the boat. Low down, get right 
down. Lower down, Phroso, lower down ! " 

“ Ah, one has knocked up the barrels ! They're 
talking again. Why don't they fire ? " 

“ Do they look like hesitating ? " 

“Yes. No ; they're aiming again. No ; they've 
stopped. Row, my lord, row ! " 

I was pulling as I had not pulled since I rowed 
in my college boat at Oxford nine years before. 
I thought of the race at that moment with a sort 
of amusement. But all the while Phroso kept 
watch for me ; by design or chance she did not 
move from between me and the shore. 

“ They're running to the boat now. They’re 
getting in. Are they coming after us, my lord ? " 
“ Heaven knows ! I suppose so." 


3S6 


Phrosoi A Romance. 


I was wondering why they had not used their 
rifles: they had evidently thought of firing at 
first, but something had held their hands. Per- 
haps they — mere humble soldiers — shrank from 
the responsibility ; their leader, whose protec- 
tion would have held them harmless and whose 
favour rewarded them, lay dead. They might 
well hesitate to fire on a man whom they knew 
to be a person of some position and who had 
taken no part in Mouraki’s death. 

They’re launching the boat. They’re in 
now,” came in Phroso’s breathless whisper. 

How far off are we ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know ; two hundred yards perhaps. 
They’ve started now.” 

Do they move well ? ” 

Yes, they’re rowing hard. Oh, my dear lord, 
can you row harder? ” She turned to me for an 
instant, clasping her hands in entreaty. 

‘‘ No, I can’t, Phroso,” said I, and I believe I 
smiled. Did the dear girl think I should choose 
that moment for paddling ? 

They’re gaining,” she cried. Oh, they’re 
gaining ! On, my lord, on ! ” 

“ How many are rowing? ” 

‘‘ Three, my lord, each with two oars.” 

“ Oh, the deuce ! It’s no good, Phroso ! ” 

‘‘No good, my lord ? But if they catch us? ” 
“ I wish I could answer you. How near now ? ” 


3S7 


The Armenian Dogf! 

Half as near as they were before.” 

Look round the sea. Are there any boats 
anywhere? Look all round.” 

“There's nothing anywhere, my lord.” 

“ Then the game's up,” said I ; and I rested on 
my oars and began to pant. I was not in train- 
ing for a race. 

The boat containing the soldiers drew near 
Our boat, now motionless, awaited their coming 
Phroso sank on the seat and sat with a despair, 
ing look in her eyes. But my mood was not the 
same. Mouraki was dead ; I knew the change 
his death made was great. Mouraki was dead ; 
I did not believe that there was another man in 
Neopalia who would dare to take any extreme 
step against me. For why had they not fired? 
They did not fire now, when they could have 
shot me through the head without difficulty and 
without danger. 

Their boat came alongside of ours. I leaned 
forward and touched Phroso’s hand ; she looked 
up. 

“ Courage,” said I. “ The braver we look, the 
better we shall come off.” Then I turned to the 
pursuers and regarded them steadily, waiting for 
them to speak. The first communication was in 
dumb show. The man who was steering — he 
appeared to be a subordinate officer — covered 
me with his barrel. 


3S8 


Phfoso: A Romance. 


Tm absolutely unarmed/' I said. “You 
know that. You took my revolver away from 
me." 

“You’re trying to escape/’ said he, not shift- 
ing his aim. 

“ Where’s your warrant for stopping me ? ’’ I 
demanded. 

“ The Pasha " 

“ The Pasha’s dead. Be careful what you do. 
I am an Englishman, and in my country I am as 
great a man as your Pasha was.’’ This assertion 
perhaps was on, or beyond, the confines of strict 
truth : it had considerable effect, however. 

“ You were our prisoner, my lord,’’ said the 
officer more civilly. “We cannot allow you to 
escape. And this lady was a prisoner also. She 
is not English, she is of the island. And one of 
the islanders has slain the Pasha. She must an- 
swer for it." 

“ What can she have had to do with it ? ’’ 

“ It may have been planned between her and 
the assassin." 

“ Oh, and between me and the assassin too, 
perhaps." 

“ Perhaps, my lord. It is not my place to in- 
quire into that." 

I shrugged my shoulders with an appearance 
of mingled carelessness and impatience. 

“Well, what do you want of us?" I asked. 


359 


The Armenian Dogf! 

“You must accompany us back to Neopalia/’ 

“Well, where did you suppose I was going? 
Is this a boat to go for a voyage in ? Can I row 
a hundred miles to Rhodes? Come, you’re a 
silly fellow ! ” 

He was rather embarrassed by my tone ; he 
did not know whether to believe in my sincerity 
or not. Phroso caught the cue well enough to 
keep her tongue between her pretty lips, and her 
lids low over her wondering eyes. 

“ But,” I pursued, in a tone of ironical remon- 
strance, are you going to leave the Pasha there? 
The other is a rogue and a murderer ” (it rather 
went to my heart to describe the useful, if un- 
scrupulous, Demetri in these terms) ; “ let him 
be. But does it suit the dignity of Mouraki 
Pasha to lie untended on the shore, while his 
men row off to the harbour? It will look as 
though you had loved him little. You — four of 
you ! — allow one man to kill him, and then you 
leave his body as if it were the body of a dog ! ” 

I had no definite reason for wishing them to 
return and take up Mouraki’s body : but every 
moment gained was something. Neopalia had 
bred in me a constant hope of new chances, of 
fresh turns, of a smile from fortune, following 
quick on a frown. So I urged on them anything 
which would give a respite. My appeal was not 
wasted ; the officer held a hurried whispered 


3^0 Phfoso: A Romance^ 

consultation with the soldier who sat on the 
seat next to him. Then he said, — 

‘‘ It is true, my lord. It is more fitting that 
we should carry the body back ; but you must 
return with us.’' 

With all my heart,” said I, taking up my 
sculls with alacrity. 

The officer responded to this move of mine by 
laying his rifle in readiness across his knees: both 
boats turned, and we set out again for the beach. 
As soon as we reached it three of them went up 
the slope. I saw them kick Demetri’s body out 
of the way ; for he had fallen so that his arm 
was over the breast of his victim. Then they 
raised Mouraki and began to carry him down. 
Phroso hid her face in her hands. My eyes were 
on Mouraki’s face ; I watched him carried down 
to the boat, meditating on the strange toss-up 
which had allotted to him the fate which he had 
with such ruthless cunning prepared for me. 
Suddenly I sprang up, leaped out of the boat, 
and began to walk up the slope. I passed the 
soldiers who bore Mouraki. They paused in 
surprise and uneasiness. I walked briskly by, 
taking no notice of them, and came where De- 
metri’s body lay. I knelt for a moment by him 
and closed his eyes with my hand. Then I took 
off the silk scarf I was wearing and spread it 
over his face : and I rose to my feet again. 


3^1 


The Armenian Dog! 

Somehow I felt that I owed to Demetri some such 
small office of friendship as this that I was pay* 
ing : and I found myself hoping that there had 
been good in the man, and that He who sees all 
of the heart would see good even in the wild, 
desperate soul of Demetri of Neopalia. So I ar- 
ranged the scarf carefully, and, turning, walked 
down the slope to the boats again, glad to be 
able to tell the girl Panayiota that somebody had 
closed her lover’s eyes. Thus I left the friend 
that I knew not of. Looking into my own heart, 
I did not judge him harshly ; I had let the thing 
be done. 

When I reached the beach, the soldiers were 
about to lay Mouraki’s body in the larger of the 
two boats. But having nothing to cover his 
body with, they proceeded to remove his un- 
dress frock coat and left it lying for an instant 
on the shingle while they lifted him in. Seeing 
that they were ready, I picked up the coat and 
handed it to them. They took it and arranged 
it over the trunk and head. Two of them got 
into the boat in which Phroso sat, and signed 
to me to jump in. I was about to obey, when I 
perceived a pocket-book lying on the shingle : it 
was not mine : neither Demetri nor any of the 
soldiers was likely to carry a handsome morocco- 
leather case : it must have belonged to MourakI 
and have fallen from his coat as I lifted it. It 


362 


Phfoso: A Romance. 


lay opened now, face upwards. I stooped for 
it, intending to give it to the officer. But an in- 
stant later it was in my pocket ; and I, under 
the screen of a most innocent expression, was 
covertly watching my guards, to see whether 
they had detected my action. The two who 
rowed Mouraki had already started; the others 
had been taking their seats in the boat and had 
not perceived the swift motion with which I 
picked up the book. I walked past them and sat 
down behind them in the bows. Phroso was in 
the stern. One of them asked her, with a consid- 
erable show of respect, if she would steer. She 
assented with a nod. I crouched down low in 
the bows behind the backs of the soldiers : there 
I took out Mouraki’s pocket-book and opened it. 
My action seemed, no doubt, not far removed 
from theft. But as the book lay open on the 
shore, I had seen in it something which belonged 
to me, — something which was inalienably mine, 
of which no schemes or violence could deprive 
me : this was nothing else than my name. 

Very quietly and stealthily I drew out a slip 
of paper ; behind that was another slip, and again 
a third. They were cuttings from a Greek news- 
paper ; neither the name of the paper, nor the 
dates, nor the place of publication, appeared : 
the extracts were merely three short paragraphs. 
My name headed each of them. I had not been 


The Armcman Dog I 563 

aware that any chronicle of my somewhat unex- 
pected fortunes had reached the outer world ; 
and I set myself to read with much interest. 
Great men may become indifferent as to what 
the papers say about them : I had never attained 
to this exalted state of mind. 

Let’s have a look,” said I to myself, after a 
cautious glance over my shoulder at the other 
boat, which was several yards ahead. 

The first paragraph ran thus : 

“We regret to hear that Lord Wheatley, the English 
nobleman who has recently purchased the island of Neopalia 
and taken up his residence there, is suffering from a severe 
attack of the fever which is at the present time prevalent in 
the island.** 

'‘Now that’s very curious,” I thought. Fori 
had never enjoyed better health than during my 
sojourn in Neopalia. I turned with increased in- 
terest to the second cutting. I wanted to see 
what progress I had made in my serious sickness : 
naturally I was interested. 

“We greatly regret to announce that Lord Wheatley*s 
condition is critical. The fever has abated, but the patient 
is extremely prostrate.** 

“ It would be even more interesting if one had 
the dates,” thought I. 


3^4 


Phroso: A Romance. 


The last paragraph was extremely brief. 

“ Lord Wheatley died at seven o'clock yesterday morn- 
mg. 

I lay back in the bows of the boat, holding 
these remarkable little slips of paper in my hand. 
They gave occasion for some thought. Then I 
replaced them in the pocket-book : and I had, I 
regret to say, the curiosity to explore further. I 
lifted the outer flap of leather and looked in the 
inner compartment. It held only a single piece 
of paper. On the paper were four or five lines, 
not in print this time, but in handwriting ; and 
the handwriting looked very^ much like what I 
had seen over Mouraki's name. 

Report of Lord Wheatley’s death unfounded. Reason 
to suspect intended foul play on the part of the islanders. 
The Governor is making inquiries. Lord Wheatley is care- 
fully guarded, as attempts on his life are feared. Feeling in 
the island is much exasperated, the sale to Lord Wheatley 
being very unpopular. 

‘‘ There's another compartment yet,’' said I to 
myself, and I turned to it eagerly Alas, I was 
disappointed ! There was a sheet of paper in it, 
but the paper was a blank. Yet I looked at the 
blank piece of paper with even greater interest : 
for I had little doubt that it had been intended 
to carry another message, — a message which was 


The Armenian Dog! 365 

true and no lie, — which was to have been written 
this very morning by the dagger of Demetri. 
Something like this it would have run, would it 
not, in the terse style of my friend Mouraki 
Pasha ? 

*'Lord Wheatley assassinated this morning. Assassin 
killed by Governor’s guards. Governor is taking severe 
measures.” 

Mouraki, Mouraki ! in your life you lived irony, 
and in your death you were not divided from 
it. For, while you lay a corpse in the stern of 
your boat, I lived to read those unwritten words 
on the blank paper in your pocketbook. At first 
Constantine had killed me — so I interpreted the 
matter — by fever ; but later on that story would 
not serve, since Denny and Hogvardt and faith- 
ful Watkins knew that it was a lie. Therefore 
the lie was declared a lie : and you set yourself to 
prove again that truth is better than a lie — espe- 
cially when a man can manufacture it to his own 
order. Yet, surely, Mouraki, if you can look 
now into this world, your smile will be a wry 
one ! For, cunning as you were and full of 
twists, more cunning still and richer in expedients 
is the thing called fate ; and the dagger of 
Demetri wrote another message to fill the blank 
sheet that your provident note-book carried ! 

Thinking thus, I put the book in my pocket, 


366 


Phroso: A Romance^ 


and looked round with a smile on my lips. I 
wished the man were alive, that I might mock 
him ; I grudged him the sudden death which 
fenced him from my triumphant raillery. 

Suddenly, there in the bows of the boat, I 
laughed aloud, so that the soldiers turned startled 
faces over their shoulders, and Phroso looked at 
me in wonder. 

“It's nothing,’' said I. “Since I’m alive I 
may laugh, I suppose? ” Mouraki Pasha was not 
alive. 

My reading and my meditation had passed the 
time. Now we were round the point which had 
lain between us and the harbour, and were head- 
ing straight for the gunboat that was anchored 
just across the head of the jetty. Phroso’s eyes 
met mine in an appeal : I could give her no hope 
of escape. There was nothing for it ; we must 
go on, we and Mouraki together. But my heart 
was buoyant within me, and I exulted in the 
favours of fortune, as a lover in his mistress’s 
smiles. Was not Mouraki lying dead in the 
stern of the boat, and was not I alive ? 

We drew near to the gunboat ; now I perceived 
that her steam launch lay by her and smoke 
poured from its funnel. Evidently the launch 
was ready for a voyage. Whither? Could it be 
to Rhodes ? And did the pocket-book that I felt 
against my ribs, by any chance, contain the cargo 


3^7 


The Armenian Dog I 

which was to have been speeded on its way to^ 
day ? I laughed again as our boat came along- 
side, and a movement of excitement and inter- 
est rose from the deck of gunboat and launch 
alike. 

The officer went on board the gunboat : for an 
hour or more we sat where we were, sheltered 
by the side of the vessel from the heat of the sun, 
for it was now noon. What was happening on 
board I could not tell, but there was stir and 
bustle. The excitement seemed to grow. Pre- 
sently it spread from the vessel to the shore, and 
groups of islanders began to collect. I saw men 
point at Phroso, at me, at the stiffened figure 
under the coat. They spoke also, and freely; 
more boldly than I had heard them since Mouraki 
had landed and his presence turned their fierce 
pride to meekness. It was as though a weight 
had been lifted off them. I knew from my own 
mind the relief that came to them by the death 
of the hard man and the removal of the ruthless 
arm. Presently a boat put off and began to pull 
round the promontory. The soldiers did not 
interfere, but watched it go in idle toleration. I 
guessed its errand ; it went to take up the corpse 
of Demetri, and (I was much afraid) to give it a 
patriot’s funeral. 

At last Mouraki’s body was carried on to the 
gunboat ; then a summons came to me. With a 


368 


Phfoso: A Romance^ 


glance of encouragement at Phroso, who sat in a 
sort of stupor, I rose and obeyed. I was con- 
ducted on to the deck and found myself face 
to face with the captain. He was a Turk, a 
young man of dignified and pleasant appearance. 
He bowed to me courteously, although slightly. 
I supposed that Mouraki’s death left him the 
supreme authority in Neopalia and I made him 
the obeisance proper to his new position. 

‘‘ This is a terrible, a startling event, my lord,** 
said he. 

It*s the loss of a very eminent and distin- 
guished man,*’ I observed. 

Ah, yes, and in a very fearful manner,” he 
answered. ‘‘ I am not prejudging your position, 
but you must see that it puts you in a rather 
serious situation.” 

There were two or three of his officers stand- 
ing near; I took a step towards him. I liked his 
looks ; and somehow his grief at Mouraki’s end 
did not seem intense. I determined to play the 
bold game. 

‘‘Nothing, I assure you, to what I should have 
been in if it had not occurred,” said I con> 
posedly. 

A start and a murmur ran round the group. 
The captain looked uncomfortable. 

“ With his Excellency’s plans we have nothing 
to do ^** he began. 


The Armenian Dog! 369 

“Aye, but I have,” said I. “ And when I tell 
»» 

you 

‘‘ Gentlemen/' said the captain hastily, leave 
us alone for a little while." 

I saw at once that I had made an impression. 
It seemed not difficult to create an impression 
adverse to Mouraki now that he was dead ; 
though it had not been wise to display one when 
he was alive. 

I don’t know," said I, when we were left 
alone together, ‘‘ whether you knew the relations 
between the late Pasha and myself ? " 

‘‘ No," said he in a steady voice, looking me 
full in the face. 

“ It was not, perhaps, within the sphere of 
your duty to know them ? " I hazarded. 

It was not," said he. I thought I saw the 
slightest of smiles glimmering between beard 
and moustache. 

“ But now that you’re in command, it’s differ- 
ent?" 

‘‘ It is undoubtedly different now," he ad- 
mitted. 

Shall we talk in your cabin ? ’’ 

‘‘ By all means," — and he led the way. 

When we reached the cabin I gave him a short 
sketch of what had happened since Mouraki’s 
arrival ; he was already informed as to the events 
before that date. He heard me with unmoved 


370 


Phrosot A Romance^ 


face. At last I came to my attempted escape 
with Phroso by the secret passage, and to Con- 
stantine’s attack. 

That fellow was a villain,” he observed. 

‘‘Yes,” said 1. “ Read those.” And I handed 

him the printed slips, adding, “ I suppose he sent 
these by fishing-boats to Rhodes, first to pave the 
way, and finally to account for my disappearance.” 

“ I must congratulate you on a lucky escape, 
my lord.” 

“You have more than that to congratulate me 
on, captain. Your launch seems ready for a voy- 
age.” 

“ Yes, but I have countermanded the orders.” 

“ What were they ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon, my lord, but what con- 
cern is it ? ” 

“ For a trip to Rhodes, perhaps?” 

“ I shall not deny it if you guess it.” 

“ By the order of the Pasha ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ On what errand ? ” 

“ His Excellency did not inform me.” 

“To carry this perhaps?” I flung the paper 
which bore Mouraki’s handwriting, on the table 
that stood between us. 

He took it up and read it ; while he read, I took 
my pencil from my pocket and wrote on the 
blank slip of paper which I had found in the 


37 ^ 


The Armenian Dog I 

pocket-book the message that Mouraki’s brain 
had surely conceived, though his fingers had 
grown stiff in death before they could write it. 

What does all this mean ? '' asked the cap- 
tain, looking up as he finished reading. 

And to-morrow,'’ said I, “ I think another 

message would have gone to Rhodes ” 

I had orders to be ready to go myself to- 
morrow.” 

‘‘You had?” I cried. “And what would you 
have carried ? ” 

“ That I don’t know.” 

“ Aye, but I do. There’s your cargo ! ” and I 
flung down what I had written. 

He read it once and again, and looked across 
the table at me, fingering the slip of paper. 

“ He did not write this? ” he said. 

“ As you saw, I wrote it. If he had lived, then 
as surely as I live he would have written it. 
Captain, it was for me that the dagger was 
meant. Else why did he take the man Demetri 
with him? Had Demetri cause to love him, or 
he cause to trust Demetri?” 

The captain stood holding the paper. I 
walked round the table and laid my hand on his 
shoulder. 

“ Y ou didn’t know his schemes,” said I. “ They 
weren’t schemes that he could tell to a Turkish 
gentleman.” 


372 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


At this Instant the door opened and the officer 
who had been with us in the morning entered. 

‘‘ I have laid his Excellency's body in his 
cabin/' he said. 

‘‘ Come," said the captain, we will go and see 
it, my lord." 

I followed him to where Mouraki lay. The 
Pasha's face was composed, and there was even 
the shadow of a smile on his pale lips. 

‘‘ Do you believe what I tell you ? " I asked. 

I tried to save the girl from him, and in return 
he meant to kill me. Do you believe me? If 
not, hang me for his murder: if you do, why am 
I a prisoner ? What have I done ? Where is 
my offence ? " 

The captain looked down on Mouraki’s face, 
tugged at his moustache, smiled, was silent an 
instant. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and 
he said — he who had not dared, a day before, to 
lift his voice or raise his finger unbidden in Mou- 
raki's presence, — 

“Faugh, the Armenian dog! " 

There was, I fear, race-prejudice in that 
exclamation, but I did not contradict it. I stood 
looking down on Mouraki's face : and to my 
fancy, stirred by the events of the past hours 
and twisted from sobriety to strange excesses of 
delusion, the lips seemed once again to curl in 
their old bitter smile, as he lay still and heard 


373 


The Armenian Dog;! 

himself spurned, and could not move to exact 
the vengeance which in his life he had never 
missed. 

So we left him — the Armenian dog ! 


CHAPTER XX 
A Public Promise# 

On the evening of the next day I was once 
again with my faithful friends on board the little 
yacht. Furious with the trick Mouraki had 
played them, they rejoiced openly at his fall, and 
mingled their congratulations to me with hearty 
denunciations of the dead man. In sober reality 
we had every reason to be glad. Our new mas- 
ter was of a different stamp from Mouraki ; he 
was a proud, reserved, honest gentleman, with no 
personal ends to serve ; he had informed me that 
I must remain on the island till he received in- 
structions concerning me, but he encouraged me 
to hope that my troubles were at last over ; in- 
deed I gathered from a hint or two which he let 
fall that Mouraki’s end was not likely to be 
received with great regret in exalted circles. In 
truth I have never known a death greeted with 
more general satisfaction. The soldiers regarded 
me with quiet approval : to the people of Neopa- 
lia I became a hero : everybody seemed to have 
learned something at least of the story of my 


A Public Promise* 


375 


duel with the Pasha, and everybody had been (so 
it now appeared) on my side. I could not walk 
up the street without a shower of benedictions ; 
the islanders fearlessly displayed their liking for 
me by way of declaring their hatred for Mouraki's 
memory and their exultation in his fitting death. 
In these demonstrations they were not interfered 
with, and the captain went so far as to shut his 
eyes judiciously when, under cover of night, they 
accorded Demetri the tribute of a public funeral. 
To this function I did not go, although I was 
informed that my presence was confidently 
expected, but I sought out Panayiota and told 
her how her lover died. She heard the story 
with Spartan calm and pride; Neopalians take 
deaths easily. 

Yet there were shadows on our new-born pros* 
perity. Most lenient and gracious to me, the 
captain preserved a severe and rigorous attitude 
towards Phroso. He sent her to her own house 
— or my house, as with amiable persistence he 
called it — and kept her there under guard. Her 
case also would be considered, he said, and he 
had forwarded my exoneration of her together 
with the account of Mouraki’s death ; but he 
feared very much that she would not be allowed 
to remain in the island ; she would be a centre 
of discontent there ; as for my proposal to re- 
store Neopalia to her, he assured me that it 


37 ^ 


Phroso: A Romance* 


would not be listened to for a moment. If I de- 
clined to keep the island, probably a suitable 
and loyal Lord would be selected, and Phroso 
would be deported. 

‘‘ Where to ? I asked. 

Really I don’t know,” said the captain. It 
is but a small matter, my lord, and I have not 
troubled my superiors with any recommendation 
on the subject.” 

As he spoke he rose to go ; he had been pay- 
ing us a visit on the yacht, where, in obedience 
to his advice, I had taken up my abode. Denny, 
who was sitting near, gave a curious sort of 
laugh. I frowned fiercely. The captain looked 
from one to the other of us in bland curiosity. 

“You take an interest in the girl?” he said in 
a tone in which surprise struggled with civility. 
Again came Denny’s half-smothered laugh. 

“An interest in her?” said I irritably. “ Well, 
I suppose I do. It looked l;ke it when I took 
her through that infernal passage, didn’t it ? ” 

The captain smiled apologetically and pursued 
his way towards the door. “ I will try to obtain 
lenient treatment for her,” said he, and passed 
out. I was left alone with Denny, who chose at 
this moment to begin to whistle. I glared most 
Ill-humouredly at him. He stopped whistling and 
remarked, — 

“ By this time to-morrow our friends at home 


A Public Promise* 


377 


will be taking off their mourning : they’ll read in 
the papers that Lord Wheatley is not dead of 
fever at Neopalia, and they won’t read that he 
has fallen a victim to the misguided patriotism 
of the islanders. In fact they’ll be prepared to 
kill the fatted calf for him.” 

It was all perfectly true, both what Denny 
said and what he implied without saying. But I 
found no answer to make to it. 

‘‘ What a happy ending it is,” said Denny. 

^‘Uncommonly,” I growled, lighting a cigar. 

After this there was a long silence ; I smoked, 
Denny whistled. I saw that he was determined 
to say nothing more explicit unless I gave him a 
lead, but his whole manner exuded moral disap^ 
proval. The consciousness of his feelings kept 
me obstinately dumb. 

“ Going to stay here long ? ” he asked at last, 
in a wonderfully careless tone. 

“Well, there’s ho hurry, is there?” I retorted 
aggressively. 

“ Oh, no ; only I should have thought oh 

well, nothing.” 

Again silence ! Then Watkins opened the 
door of the cabin and announced the return of 
the captain. I was surprised to see him again so 
soon ; I was more surprised when he came at me 
with outstretched hand and a smile of mingled 
amusement and reproof on his face. 


37^ Phroso: A Romance* 

“ My dear lord ! he exclaimed, seizing my 
defenceless hand. ‘‘ Is this treating me quite 
fairly? So far as a word from you went, T .va 
left completely in the dark. Of course, I i r- 
stand now, but it was an utter surprise to 
He shook his head with playful reproach. 

“ If you understand now, I confess you have 
the advantage of me,'' I returned with some stiff- 
ness. Pray, sir, what has occurred ? No doubt 
it's something remarkable; I've learned to rely 
on Neopalia for that." 

It was remarkable in my eyes, I admit, and 
rather startling. But of course I acquiesced. 
In fact, my dear lord, it materially alters the sit- 
uation. As your wife, she will be in a very dif- 
ferent " 

Hallo ! " cried Denny, leaping up from the 
bench where he had been sitting. 

“ In a very different position indeed," pursued 
the captain blandly. ‘‘ We should have, if I may 
say so, a guarantee for her good behaviour. We 
should have you to look to — a great security, as 
I need not tell you." 

‘‘ My dear sir," said I in exasperated pleading, 
“you don't seem to think you need tell me any- 
thing. Pray inform me of what has occurred, 
and what this wonderful thing is that makes so 
much change." 

“ Indeed," said he, “ if I had surprised a secret, 


A Public Promise* 379 

I would apologise. But it’s evidently known to 
all the islanders.” 

Well, but I’m not an islander,” I cried in 
growing fury. 

The captain sat down, lit a cigarette very deli- 
berately, and observed, — 

It was perhaps stupid of me not to have 
thought of it. She is, of course, a beautiful girl, 
but hardly, if I may say so, your equal in posi- 
tion, my lord.” 

I jumped up and caught him by the shoulder. 
He might order me under arrest if he liked, but 
he should tell me what had happened first. 

What’s happened ? ” I reiterated. ‘‘ Since 
you left us — what ? ” 

A deputation of the islanders, headed by 
their priest, came to ask my leave for the inhabi- 
tants to go up to the house and see their Lady.” 

“ Yes, yes. What for ? ” 

‘^To offer her their congratulations on her 
betrothal ” 

What?” 

And their assurances of loyalty to her and to 
her husband for her sake. Oh, it simplifies the 
matter very much.” 

‘‘ Oh, does it ? And did you tell them they 
might go ? ’' 

‘‘Was there any objection? Certainly. Cer- 
tainly I told them they might go, and I added that 


3^0 Phroso: A Romance# 

I heard with great gratification that a marriage 
so 

What the captain had said to the deputation I 
did not wait to hear. No doubt it was something 
highly dignified and appropriate, for he was evi- 
dently much pleased with himself. But before 
he could possibly have finished so ornate a sen- 
tence, I was on the deck of the yacht. I heard 
Denny push back his chair ; whether merely in 
wonder or in order to follow me I did not know. 
I leaped from the yacht on to the jetty, and 
started to run up the street nearly as quickly as I 
had run down it on the day when Mouraki was 
kind enough to send my friends a-fishing. At 
all costs I must stop the demonstration of delight 
which the inconvenient innocence of these isl- 
anders was preparing. 

Alas, the street was a desert ! The movements 
of the captain were always leisurely ; the impe- 
tuous Neopalians had wasted no time ; they had 
got a start of me, and running up the hill after 
them was no joke. Against my will I was at last 
obliged to drop into a walk, and thus pursued my 
way doggedly, thinking in gloomy despair how 
everything conspired to push me along the road 
which my honour and my pledged word closed to 
me. Was ever man so tempted? Did ever cir- 
cumstances so conspire with his own wishes, or 
fate make duty seem more hard ? 


A Public Promise^ 


381 

I turned the corner of the road which led to 
the old house. It was here I had first heard 
Phroso's voice in the darkness, here where from 
the window of the hall I had seen her lithe, 
graceful figure when she came in her boy's dress 
to raid my cows ; a little further on was where I 
had said farewell to her when she went back, the 
grant of Neopalia in her hand, to soften the 
hearts of her turbulent countrymen ; here where 
Mouraki had tried her with his guile and intimi- 
dated her with his harshness ; and there was the 
house where I had declared to the Pasha that she 
should be my wife. How sweet that saying 
sounded in my remembering ears! Yet I swear 
I did not waver. Many have called me a fool for 
it since. I know nothing about that. Times 
change, and people are very wise nowadays ; my 
father was a fool, I daresay, to give thousands to 
his spendthrift schoolfellow, just because he hap- 
pened to have said he would. 

I saw them now, the bright picturesque crowd 
thronging round the door of the house ; and on 
the step of the threshold I saw her, standing 
there, tall and slim, with one hand resting on the 
arm of Kortes's sister. A loud cry rose from the 
people ; she did not seem to speak. With set 
teeth I walked on. Now some one in the circle 
caught sight of me. There was another eager 
cry, a stir, shouts, gestures; then they turned 


382 


Phfoso; A Romance* 


and ran to me ; before I could move or speak, a 
dozen strong hands were about me. They 
swung me up on their shoulders and carried me 
along ; the rest waved their hands and cheered ; 
they blessed me and called me their Lord ; the 
women laughed, and the girls shot merry, shy 
glances at me. Thus they bore me in triumph 
to Phroso’s feet. Surely I was indeed a hero in 
Neopalia to-day, for they believed that through 
me their Lady would be left to them and their 
island escape the punishment they feared. So 
they sang One-eyed Alexander’s chant no more, 
but burst into a glad hymn — an epithalamium — - 
as I knelt at Phroso’s feet and did not dare to 
lift my eyes to her fair face. 

Here’s a mess ! ” I groaned, wondering what 
they had said to my poor Phroso. 

Then a sudden silence fell on them. Looking 
up in wonder, I saw that Phroso had raised her 
hand and was about to speak. She did not look 
at me, nay, she did not look at them ; her eyes 
were fixed on the sea that she loved. Then her 
voice came, low but clear, — 

Friends,— for all are friends here and there 
are no strangers, — once before in the face of all 
of you I have told my love for my lord ; my lord 
did not know that what I said was true, and I 
have not told him that it was true till I tell him 
here to-day. But you talk foolishly when you 


A Public Promise^ 


3S3 


greet me as my lord’s bride. For in his country 
he is a great man and owns great wealth ; and 
Neopalia is very small and poor; and I seem 
but a poor girl to him, though you call me your 
Lady.” 

Here she paused an instant: then she went on, 
her voice sinking a little lower and growing al- 
most dreamy, as if she let herself drift idly on 
the waves of fancy. 

Is it strange to speak to you — to you my 
brothers and sisters of our island? I do not 
know ; I love to speak to you all. For poor as 
I am and as our island is, I think sometimes that 
had my lord come here a free man he would 
have loved me. But his heart was not his own, 
and the lady he loves waits for him at home, and 
he will go to her. So wish me joy no more on 
what cannot be.” And then, very suddenly, be- 
fore I or any of them could move or speak, she 
withdrew inside the threshold, and Kortes’s sister 
swiftly closed the door. I was on my feet as it 
shut, and I stood facing it, my back to the is- 
landers. 

Among them at first there was an amazed si- 
lence, but soon voices began to be heard. I 
turned round and met their gaze. The strong 
yoke of Mouraki was off them ; their fear had 
gone, and with it their meekness; they were 
again in the fierce, impetuous mood of St. Try- 


384 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


phon’s day ; they were exasperated at their dis- 
appointment, enraged to find the plan which left 
Phroso to them and relieved them of the threat- 
ened advent of a Government nominee brought 
to nothing. 

They’ll take her away,” said one. 

‘‘They’ll send us a rascally Turk,” cried an- 
other. 

“He shall hear the death-chant then,” men- 
aced a third. 

Then their anger, seeking an outlet, turned on 
me. I do not know that I had the right to con- 
sider myself an entirely innocent victim. 

“He has won her love by fraud,’' muttered 
one to another, with evil-disposed glances and 
ominous frowns. 

I thought they were going to handle me 
roughly, and I felt for the revolver which the 
captain had been kind enough to restore to me. 
But a new turn was given to their thoughts by a 
tall fellow with long hair and flashing eyes, who 
leaped out from the middle of the throng, crying 
loudly, — 

“Is not Mouraki dead? Why need we fear? 
Shall we wait idle while our Lady is taken from 
us? To the shore, islanders! Where is fear 
since Mouraki is dead ? ” 

His words lit a torch that blazed up furiously. 
In an instant they were aflame with the mad 


A Public Promise# 


385 


notion of attacking the soldiers and the gunboat. 
No voice was raised to point out the hopelessness 
of such an attempt, the certain death and the 
heavy penalties which must wait on it. The 
death-chant broke out again, mingled with ex- 
hortations to turn and march against the soldiers, 
and with encouragements to the tall fellow — 
Orestes they called him — to put himself at their 
head. He was not loth. 

Let us go and get our guns and our knives,’' 
he cried, and then to the shore ! ” 

And this man ? ” called half-a-dozen, point- 
ing at me. 

“When we have driven out the soldiers we 
will deal with him," said Master Orestes. “ If 
our Lady desires him for her husband, he shall 
wed her." 

A shout of approval greeted this arrangement, 
and they drew together into a sort of rude 
column, the women making a fringe to it. But 
I could not let them march on their own de- 
struction without a word of warning. I sprang 
on to the raised step where Phroso had stood, 
just outside the door, and cried, — • 

“You fools! The guns of the ship will mow 
you down before you can touch a hair of the 
head of a single soldier." 

A deep derisive groan met my attempt at dis- 
suasion. 


386 


Phrase: A Roma.nce« 


On, on ! ** they cried. 

‘‘ It's certain death," I shouted, and now I saw 
one or two of the women hesitate, and look first 
at me and then at each other with doubt and 
fear. But Orestes would not listen, and called 
again to them to take the road. Thus we were 
when the door behind me opened, and Phroso 
was again by my side. She knew how matters 
went; her eyes were wild with terror and distress. 

‘‘ Stop them, my lord, stop them," she im- 
plored. 

For answer, I took my revolver from my 
pocket, saying, I’ll do what I can." 

“ No, no, not like that ! That would be your 
death as well as theirs." 

‘‘Come," cried Orestes, in the pride of his 
sudden elevation to leadership. “ Come, follow 
me. I’ll lead you to victory." 

“You fools, you fools!" I groaned. “In an 
hour half of you will be dead 1 " 

No, they would not listen. Only the women 
now laid imploring hands on the arms of hus- 
bands and brothers, — useless loving restraints 
angrily flung off. 

“ Stop them, stop them ! " prayed Phroso. 
“ By any means, my lord, by any means ! " 

“ There’s only one way," said I. 

“ Whatever the way may be," she urged ; for 
now the column was facing round towards the 


A Public Promise# 


387 


harbour. Orestes had taken his place, swelling 
with importance and eager to display his prowess. 
In a word, Neopalia was in revolt again, and the 
death-chant threatened to swell out in all its 
barbaric, simple savagery at any moment. 

There was nothing else for it. I must tempo- 
rise ; and that word is generally, and was in this 
case, the equivalent of a much shorter one. I 
could not leave these mad fools to rush on ruin. 
A plan was in my head and I gave it play. I 
took a pace forward, raised my hand and cried, — 

‘‘ Hear me before you march, Neopalians, for I 
am your friend.” 

My voice gained me a minute’s silence ; the 
column stood still, though Orestes chafed impa- 
tiently at the delay. 

You’re in haste, men of Neopalia,” said I. 
‘‘Indeed you’re always in haste. You were in 
haste to kill me who had done you no harm. 
You are in haste to kill yourselves by marching 
into the mouth of the great gun of the ship. In 
truth I wonder that any of you are still alive. 
But here in this matter you are most of all in 
haste ; for, having heard what the Lady Phroso 
said, you have not asked nor waited to hear what 
I say, but have at once gone mad, all of you, and 
chosen the maddest among you and made him 
your leader.” 

I do not think that they had expected quite 


388 


Phrosoi A Romance# 


this style of speech. They had looked for pas* 
sionate reproaches or prayerful entreaties ; cool 
scorn and chafif put them rather at a loss, and my 
reference to Orestes, who looked sour enough, 
won me a hesitating laugh. 

“And then, all of you mad together, off you 
go, leaving me here the only sane man in the 
place ! For am not I sane ? Aye, not mad enough 
to leave the fairest lady in the world when she 
says she loves me.’* I took Phroso’s hand and 
kissed it. It lay limp and cold in mine. “For 
my home,” I went on, “ is a long way off, and it 
is long since I have seen the lady of whom you 
have heard ; and a man’sheart will not be denied.” 
Again I kissed Phroso's hand, but I dared not 
look her in the face. 

My meaning had dawned on them now. There 
was an instant’s silence, the last relic of doubt 
and puzzle. Then a sudden loud shout went up 
from them. Orestes alone was sullen and mute, 
for my surrender deposed him from his brief 
eminence. Again and again they shouted in 
joy. I knew that their shouts must reach nearly 
to the harbour. Men and women crowded 
round me and seized my hand ; nobody seemed 
to make any bones about the “ lady who waited ” 
for me. They were single-hearted patriots, these 
Neopalians. I had observed that virtue in them 
several times before, and their behaviour now 


A Public Promise* 


3S9 


confirmed my opinion. But there was, of course, 
a remarkable difference in the manifestation. Be- 
fore I had been the object, now I was the sub- 
ject; for by announcing my intention of marry- 
ing Phroso I took rank as a Neopalian. Indeed 
for a minute or two I was afraid that the post of 
Generalissimo, vacant by Orestes’s deposition, 
would be forcibly thrust upon me. 

Happily their enthusiasm took a course which 
was more harmless, although it was hardly less em- 
barrassing. They made a ring round Phroso and 
me, and insisted on our embracing one another 
in the glare of publicity. Yet somehow I forgot 
them all for a moment — them all, and more than 
them all — while I held her in my arms. 

Now it chanced that the captain, Denny, and 
Hogvardt chose this moment for appearing on 
the road, in the course of a leisurely approach to 
the house ; and they beheld Phroso and myself 
in a very sentimental attitude on the doorstep, 
with the islanders standing round in high delight. 
Denny’s amazed Hallo ! ” warned me of what 
had happened. The islanders — their enmity to- 
wards the suzerain power allayed as quickly as it 
had been roused — ran to the captain to impart 
the joyful news. He came up to me, and be- 
stowed his sanction by a shake of the hand. 

“ But why did you behave so strangely, my 
lord, when I wished you joy an hour ago on the 


39 o Phroso: A Romance^ 

boat?” he asked ; and it was a very natural 
question. 

‘‘ Oh, the truth is,” said I, that there was a 
little difficulty in the way then.” 

Oh, a lover’s quarrel ? ” he smiled. 

“Well, something like it,” I admitted. 

“ Everything is quite right now, I hope ? ” he 
said politely. 

“Well, very nearly,” said I. Then I met 
Denny’s eye. 

“ Am I also to congratulate you ? ” said Denny 
coldly. 

There was no opportunity of explaining mat- 
ters to him ; the captain was too near. 

“ I shall be very glad if you will,” I said, “ and 
if Hogvardt will also.” 

Hogvardt shrugged his shoulders, raised his 
brows, smiled, and observed, — 

“ I trust you’re acting for the best, my lord.” 

Denny made no answer at all. He kicked the 
ground with his foot. I knew very well what 
was in Denny’s mind. Denny was of my family 
on his mother’s side ; and Denny’s eye asked, 
“ Where is the word of a Wheatley?” All this 
I realised fully ; I read his mind then more 
clearly than I could read my own. For had we 
been alone, and had he put to me the plain ques- 
tion, “ Do you mean to make her your wife, or 
are you playing another trick ? ” — by heaven, I 


A Public Promise* 


391 

should not have known what to answer! I had 
begun a trick ; the plan was to persuade the 
islanders into dispersing peacefully by my pre- 
tence, and then to slip away quietly by myself, 
trusting to their good sense — although a broken 
reed, yet the only resource — to make them ac- 
cept an accomplished fact. But was that my 
mind now, since I had held Phroso in my arms, 
and her lips had met mine in the kiss which the 
islanders hailed as the pledge of our union ? 

I did not know. I saw Phroso turn and go 
into the house again. The captain spoke to 
Denny. I saw him point up to the window of 
the room which Mouraki had occupied. He 
went in ; Denny motioned Hogvardt to his side, 
and they two also went in the house without 
asking me to accompany them. Gradually the 
throng of islanders dispersed ; Orestes flung off 
in sullen disappointment ; the men — those who 
had knives carefully hiding them — walked down 
the road like peaceful citizens ; the women 
strolled away, laughing, chattering, gossiping, de- 
lighted, as women always are, with the love af- 
fair. Thus I was left alone in front of the house. 
It was late afternoon, and clouds had gathered 
over the sea. The air was very still ; no sound 
struck my ear except the wash of the waves on 
the shore. 

There I stood fighting the battle, for how long 


392 Phroso: A Romance# 

I do not know ; the struggle within me was very 
sore. On either side seemed now to lie a path 
that it soiled my feet to tread ; on the one was a 
broken pledge, on the other a piece of trickery 
and knavishness. The joy of a love that could 
be mine only through dishonour was imperfect 
joy ; yet, if that love could not be mine, life 
seemed too empty a thing to live. The voices 
of the two sounded in my ear — the light, merry 
prattle and the calmer, sweeter voice. Ah, this 
island of mine, what things it put on a man ! 

At last I felt a hand laid on my shoulder ; I 
turned, and in the quick-gathering dusk of the 
evening I saw Kortes’s sister; she looked long 
and earnestly into my face. 

** Well ? '' said I. “ What is it now ? 

‘‘She must see you, my lord,’’ answered the 
woman. “She must see you now, at once.” 

I looked again at the harbour and the sea, 
trying to quell the tumult of my thoughts and 
to resolve what I would do. I could find no 
course and settle on no resolution. 

“ Yes, she must see me,” said I at last ; I could 
say nothing else. 

The woman moved away, a strange bewilder- 
ment showing in her kind eyes. Again I was 
left alone in my restless self-communings. I 
heard people moving to and fro in the house. I 
heard the window of Mouraki’s room, where the 


A Public Promise* 


393 


captain was, closed with a decisive hand. And 
then I became aware of some one approaching 
me. I turned and saw Phroso's white dress 
gleaming through the gloom, and her face nearly 
as white above it. 

Yes, the time had come ; but I was not ready. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


A Word of Various Meanings. 

She came up to me swiftly and without hesi- 
tation. I had looked for some embarrassment, 
but there was none in her face. She met my 
eyes full and square, and began to speak to me 
at once. 

My lord,” she said, I must ask one thing of 
you : I must lay one more burden on you. 
After to-day I dare not be here when my coun- 
trymen learn how they are deluded ; I should be 
ashamed to face them ; and I dare not trust my- 
self to the Turks, for I don’t know what they 
would do with me. Will you take me with you 
to Athens, or to some other port from which I 
can reach Athens ? I can elude the guards here : 
I shall be no trouble : you need only tell me 
when your boat will start, and give me a corner 
to live in on board. Indeed I grieve to ask 
more of you, for you have done so much for me, 

but my trouble is great and What is it, my 

lord?” 

I had moved my hand to stop her. She had 


39S 


A Word of Various Meaningfs. 

acted in the one way in which, had it been to 
save my life, I could not have. She put what 
had passed utterly out of the way, treating it as 
the merest trick. My part in it was to her the 
merest trick ; of hers she said nothing. Had 
hers, then, been a trick also ? My blood grew 
hot at the thought ; I could not endure it. 

“ When your countrymen learn how they are 
deluded ? said I, repeating her words. ‘‘ De- 
luded in what ? 

“ In the trick we played on them, my lord, to 
to persuade them to disperse.*' 

I took a step towards her, and my voice shook 
as I said, — 

‘‘Was it all a trick, Phroso ? " For at this 
moment I set above everything else in the world 
a fresh assurance of her love. I would force it 
from her, sooner than not have it. 

She answered me with questioning eyes and a 
sad little smile. 

“ Are we then betrothed ? ** she said in mourn- 
ful mockery. 

I was close by her now. I did not touch her, 
but I bent a little, and my face was near hers. 

“ Was it a trick to-day, and a trick on Saint 
Tryphon's day also? " I asked. 

She gave one startled glance at my face, and 
then her eyes dropped to the ground. She made 
no answer to my question. 


39 ^ 


Phroso: A Romance* 


‘‘Was it all a trick, Phroso?” I asked in 
entreaty, in urgency, in the wild longing to hear 
her love declared once, here, to me alone, where 
nobody could hear, nobody impair its sweet 
secrecy. 

Phroso’s answer came now, set to the accom- 
paniment of the saddest, softest, murmuring 
laugh. 

“ Ah, my lord, must you hear it again ? Am I 
not twice shamed already?” 

“ Be shamed yet once again,” I whispered ; 
then I saw the light of gladness master the misty 
sorrow in her eyes as I had seen once before ; and 
I greeted it, whispering, “Yes, a thousand times, 
a thousand times! ” 

“ My dear lord 1 ” she said ; but then she 
sprang back, and the brightness was clouded 
again as she stood aloof, regarding me in speech- 
less, distressed puzzle. 

“ But, my lord ” she murmured, so low that 

I scarcely heard. Then she took refuge in a 
return to her request: “You won’t leave me 
here, will you? You’ll take me somewhere 
where I can be safe ? I — I’m afraid of these men, 
even though the Pasha is dead.” 

I took no notice of the request she repeated. 
I seemed unable to speak, or to do anything else 
but look into her eyes : and I said — a touch of 
awe in my voice, — 


A Word of Various Mcaningfs# 397 

‘‘You have the most wonderful eyes in all the 
world, Phroso.” 

“ My lord ! ’’ murmured Phroso, dropping en- 
vious lids. But I knew she would open them 
soon again, and so she did, 

“Yes, in all the wide world,’’ said I. “ And I 
want to hear it again.” 

As we talked we had moved little by little ; 
now we were at the side of the house in the deep, 
dull shadow of it. Yet the eyes I praised pierced 
the gloom and shone in the darkness. And sud- 
denly I felt arms about my neck, clasping me 
tightly; her breath was on my cheek, coming 
quick and uneven ; and she whispered, — 

“Yes, you shall hear it again and again and 
again, for I am not ashamed now. For I know, 
yes, I know. I love you, I love you, ah, how I 
love you ! ” Her whispers found answer in mine : 
I held her as though against all the world : all the 
world was in that moment, and there was noth- 
ing else than that moment in all the world. Had 
a man told me then that I had felt love before, I 
would have laughed in his face — the fool ! 

But then Phroso drew back again ; the brief 
rapture, free from all past or future, all thought 
or doubt, left her, and, in leaving her, forsook me 
also. She stood over against me, murmuring, — 

“ But, my lord ” 

I knew well what she would say, and for an im 


39^ Phfoso: A Romance# 

stant I stood silent ; the world hung for us on 
the cast of my next words. 

‘‘ But, my lord, the lady who waits for you 
over the sea? '' There sounded a note of fear in 
the softly breathed whisper that the night carried 
to my ear. In an instant, before I could answer, 
Phroso came near to me and laid one hand on 
my arm, speaking gently and quickly. ‘‘Yes, I 
know — I see — I understand,’' she said, “and I 
thank you, my lord ; and I thank God, my dear 
lord, that you told me and did not leave me 
without showing me your love. For though I 
must be very unhappy, yet I shall be proud ; and 
in the long nights I shall think of this dear island 
and of you, though you will both be far away. 
Yes, I thank heaven you told me, my dear lord.” 
She bent her head, that should have bent to no 
man, and kissed my hand. 

But I snatched my hand hastily away, and I 
sprang to her and caught her again in my arms, 
and again kissed her lips ; for my resolve was 
made. I would not let her go. Those who 
would, might ask the rights of it ; I could not let 
her go. Yet I spoke no word, and she did not 
understand, but thought that I kissed her in 
farewell ; for the tears were on her face and 
wetted my lips ; and she clung to me as though 
something were tearing her from me and must 
soon sunder us apart ; so greedy was her grasp on 


A Word of Various Meanings* 399 

me. But then I opened my mouth to whisper in 
her ear the words which would bid defiance to 
the thing that was tearing her away, and rivet her 
life to mine. 

But hark ! There was a cry, a startled ex- 
clamation, and the sound of footsteps. My name 
was shouted loud and eagerly. I knew Denny’s 
voice. Phroso slid from my relaxed arms, and 
drew back into the deepest shadow. 

“ I’ll be back soon,” I whispered, and with a 
last pressure of her hand, which was warm now 
and answered to my grasp, I stepped out of the 
shelter of the wall and stood in front of the 
house. 

Denny was on the door-step ; the door was 
open ; the light from the lamp in the hall flooded 
the night and fell full on my face as I walked up 
to him. On sight of me he seemed to forget his 
own errand and his own eagerness ; for he caught 
me by the shoulder, and stared at me, crying, — 

“ Heavens, man, you’re as white as a sheet ! 
Have you seen a ghost ? Does Constantine walk 
— or Mouraki ?” 

“ Fifty ghosts would be a joke to what I’ve 
been through. My God, I never had such a 
time ! What do you want ? What did you call 
me for? I can’t stay. She’s waiting.” For now 
I did not care ; Denny and all Neopalia might 
know now. 


400 Fhroso: A Romance# 

‘‘Yes, but she must wait a little,” he said 
“You must come into the house and come up- 
stairs.” 

“ I can’t,” I said obstinately. “ I — I — I can’t, 
Denny.” 

“You must. Don’t be a fool, Charley. It’s 
important; the captain is waiting for you.” 

His face seemed big with news; what it might 
be I could not tell, but the hint of it was enough 
to make me catch hold of him, crying, “ What is 
it? ril come.” 

“That’s right. Come along.” He turned and 
ran rapidly through the old hall and up the stairs. 
I followed him, my mind whirling through a 
cloud of possibilities. 

The quiet, business-like aspect of the room 
into which Denny led the way did something to 
sober me. I pulled myself together, seeking to 
hide my feelings under a mask of carelessness. 
The captain sat at the table with a mass of papers 
surrounding him ; he appeared to be examining 
them, and, as he read, his lips curved in surprise 
or contempt. 

“ This Mouraki was a cunning fellow,” said he, 
“ but if any one had chanced to get hold of this 
box of his while he was alive, he would not have 
enjoyed even so poor a post as he thought his 
governorship. Indeed, Lord Wheatley, had you 
been actually a party to his death, I think you 


401 


A Word of Various Meanings# 

need have feared nothing when some of these 
papers had found their way to the eyes of the 
Government. We're well rid of him, indeed ! 
But then, as I always say, these Armenians, 
though they're clever dogs " 

But I had not come to hear a Turk discourse 
on Armenians, and I broke in, with an impatience 
that I could not altogether conceal, — 

‘‘ I beg your pardon, but is that all you wanted 
to say to me ? " 

I should have thought that it was of some 
importance to you," he observed. 

‘‘ Certainly," said I, regaining my composure a 
little ; ‘‘ but your courtesy and kindness had 
already reassured me." 

He bowed his acknowledgments, and proceeded 
in a most leisurely tone, sorting the papers and 
documents before him into orderly heaps. 

On the death of the Pasha, the government 
of the island having devolved temporarily on me, 
I thought it my duty to examine his Excellency’s 
— (curse the dog) — his Excellency's despatch-box, 
with the result that I have discovered very 
remarkable evidences of the schemes which he 
dared to entertain. With this, however, perhaps 
I need not trouble you." 

“ I wouldn't intrude into it for the world," I 
said. 

‘‘ I discovered also," he pursued in undisturbed 


402 


Phfosoi A Romance* 


leisure and placidity, among the Pasha's papers 

a letter addressed to " 

Me ? " and I sprang forward. 

** No, to your cousin, to this gentleman. Pursu- 
ing what I conceived to be my duty — and I must 

trust to Mr. Swinton to forgive me Here 

the exasperating fellow paused, looked at Denny, 
waited for a bow from Denny, duly received it, 
duly and with ceremony returned it, sighed as 
though he were much relieved at Denny’s com- 
plaisance, cleared his throat, arranged a little 
heap of papers on his left hand, and at last — oh, 
at last ! — went on. 

** This letter, I say, in pursuance of what I con- 
ceived to be my duty " 

“Yes, yes, your duty, of course. Clearly your 
duty. Yes?" 

“ — I read. It appeared, however, to contain 
nothing of importance " 

“ Then why the deuce 1 mean — I beg your 

pardon." 

“ — but merely matters of private concern. But 
I am not warranted in letting it out of my hands. 
It will have to be delivered to the Government 
with the rest of the Pasha’s papers. I have, how- 
ever, allowed Mr. Swinton to read it. He says 
that it concerns you. Lord Wheatley, more than 
himself. I therefore propose to ask him to read it 
to you (I can decipher English but not speak it 


A Wotd of Various Meanings# 403 

with facility) in my presence.*' With this he 
handed an envelope to Denny. We had got to 
it at last. 

‘‘For heaven’s sake be quick about it, my dear 
boy,” I cried, and I seated myself on the table, 
swinging my leg to and fro in a fury of restless 
impatience. The captain eyed my agitated 
body with profound disapproval. 

Denny took the letter from its envelope and 
read : — “ London, May 21st ; ” then he paused and 
Ifcmarked, “We got here on the seventh, you 
know.” I nodded hastily, and he went on, “ My 
dear Denny — Oh, how awful this is ! I can 
hardly bear to think of it ! Poor, poor fellow ! 
Mamma is terribly grieved, and I, of course, even 
more. Both mamma and I feel that it makes it 
so much worse, somehow, that this news should 
come only three days after he must have got 
mamma’s letter. Mamma says that it doesn’t 
really make any difference, and that if her letter 
was wtsey then this terrible news can’t alter that. 
I suppose it doesn’t really, but it seems to, 
doesn’t it? Oh, do write directly and tell me 
that he ^/asn’t very unhappy about it when he 
had that horrible fever. There’s a big blot — be- 
cause I’m crying ! I know you thought I didn’t 
care about him, but I did — though not (as 
mamma says) in one way, really. Do you think 
he forgave me? It would kill me if I thought 


404 Phroso: A Romance# 

he didn't. Do write soon. I suppose you will 
bring poor dear Charley home? Please tell me 
he didn’t think very badly of me. Mamma joins 
with me in sincerest sympathy — yours most sin- 
cerely, Beatrice Kennett Hipgrave. P. S. — Mr. 
Bennett Hamlyn has just called ; he is awfully 
grieved about poor dear Charley. I always think 
of him as Charley still, you know. Do write.” 

There was a long pause. Then Denny ob- 
served in a satirical tone, — 

‘‘To be thought of still as ‘Charley’ is, after 
all, something.” 

“ But what the devil does it mean ? ” I cried, 
leaping from the table. 

“ ‘ I suppose you will bring poor dear Charley 
home,’ ” repeated Denny in a meditative tone. 
“ Well, it looks rather more like it than it did a 
few days ago, I must admit.” 

“ Denny, Denny, if you love me, what’s it all 
about ? I haven’t had any letter from ” 

“‘Mamma’? No, we’ve had no letter from 
mamma. But then we haven’t had any letters 
from anybody.” 

“Then I’m hanged if I ” I began in be- 

wildered despondency. 

“ But, Charley,” interrupted Denny, “ perhaps 
mamma sent a letter to Mouraki Pasha! ” 

“ To Mouraki ? ” 

“ This letter of mine found its way’to Mouraki.” 


A Word of Various Meamngfs* 4^5 

All letters/' observed the captain, who was 
leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceil- 
ing, would pass through his hands, if he chose 
to make them." 

Good heavens ! " I cried, springing forward. 
The hint was enough. In an instant my busy, 
nervous, shaking hands were ruining the neat 
piles of documents which the captain had reared 
so carefully in front and on either side of him. 
I dived, tossed, fumbled, rummaged, scattered, 
strewed, tore. The captain, incapable of resist- 
ing my excited energy, groaned in helpless de- 
spair at the destruction of his evening’s work. 
Denny, having watched me for a few minutes, 
suddenly broke out into a peal of laughter. I 
stopped for an instant to glare reproof of his ill- 
timed mirth, and turned to my wild search again. 

The search seemed useless. Either Mouraki 
had not received a letter from Mrs. Bennett Hip- 
grave, or he had done what I myself always did 
with the good lady’s communications — thrown it 
away immediately after reading it. I examined 
every scrap of paper, official documents, private 
notes (the captain was very nervous when I in- 
sisted on looking through these for a trace of 
Mrs. Hipgrave’s name), lists of stores, — in a word, 
the whole contents of Mouraki’s despatch-boxes, 

It’s a blank ! " I cried, stepping back at last 
in disappointment. 

'1 


4o6 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


‘‘Yes, it's gone; but depend upon it, he had 
it," said Denny. 

A sudden recollection flashed across me, the 
remembrance of the subtle, amused smile with 
which Mouraki had spoken of the lady who was 
most anxious about me and my future wife. He 
must have known then, he must even then have 
had Mrs. Hipgrave's letter in his possession. He 
had played a deliberate trick on me by suppress- 
ing the letter; hence his fury when I announced 
my intention of disregarding the ties that bound 
me, a fury which had, for the moment, conquered 
his cool cunning and led him into violent threats. 
At that moment, when I realised the man’s 
audacious knavery, when I thought of the strug- 
gle he had caused to me and the pain to Phroso, 
well, just then I came near to canonising Deme- 
tri, and nearer still to grudging him his exploit. 

“ What was in the letter then ? " I cried to 
Denny. 

* “ Read mine "again," said he, and he threw it 

across to me. 

I read it again. I was cooler now, and the 
meaning of it stood out plain and not to be 
doubted. Mrs. Bennett Hipgrave's letter — 'her 
wise letter — had broken off my engagement to 
her daughter. The fact was plain ; all tha*- was 
missing, destroyed by the caution or the 
lessness of Mouraki Pasha, was the reason a-nd 


A Word of Various Meaningfs* 407 

the reason I could supply for myself. I reached 
my conclusion, and looked again at Denny. 

Allow me to congratulate you,'' said Denny 
ironically. 

Man is a curious creature. I (and other peo- 
ple) may have made that reflection before. I 
offer no apology for it. The more I see of my- 
self and my friends the more convinced I grow of 
its truth. Here was the thing for which I had 
been hoping and praying, the one great gift that 
I asked of fate, the single boon which fortune 
enviously withheld. Here was freedom — divine 
freedom! Yet what I actually said to Denny, 
in reply to his felicitations, was, — 

‘‘Hang the girl! She’s jilted me!” And I 
said it with considerable annoyance. 

The captain, who studied English in his spare 
moments, here interposed, asking suavely, — 

“ Pray, my dear Lord Wheatley, what is the 
meaning of that word — ‘ jilted ’ ? ” 

“ The meaning of ‘ jilted ’ ? ” said Denny. “ He 
wants to know the meaning of ‘jilted,’ Charley.” 

I looked from one to the other of them ; then 
I said, — 

“ I think I’ll go and ask,” and I started for the 
door. The captain’s expression accused me of 
rudeness. Denny caught me by the arm. 

“ It’s not decent yet,” said he, with a twinkle 
in his eye. 


4o8 


Phroso: A Romance* 


It happened nearly a month ago/’ I pleaded. 
^‘Fve had time to get over it, Denny; a man 
can’t wear the willow all his life.” 

‘‘You old humbug!” said Denny, but he let 
me go. 

I was not long in going. I darted down the 
stairs. I suppose a man tricks his conscience 
and will find excuses for himself where others 
can find only matter for laughter ; but I remem- 
ber congratulating myself on not having spoken 
the decisive words to Phroso before Denny in- 
terrupted us. Well, I would speak them now; 
I was free to speak them now. Suddenly in 
this thought the vexation at being jilted van- 
ished. 

“ It amounts,” said I to myself as I reached 
the hall, “ to no more than a fortunate coinci- 
dence of opinion.” And I passed through the 
door and turned sharp round to the left. 

She was there waiting for me, and waiting 
eagerly, it seemed ; for before I could speak she 
ran to me, holding out her hands ; and she cried 
in a low, urgent whisper, full of entreaty, — 

“ My lord, I have thought. I have thought 
while you were in the house. You must not 
do this, my lord. Yes, I know — now I know 
— that you love me, but you mustn’t do this. 
My lord’s honour sha’n’t be stained for my 
sake.” 


A Word of Various Meanings# 4^9 

I could not resist it, and I cannot justify it. 
I assumed a terribly sad expression. 

‘‘You’ve really come to that conclusion, 
Phroso ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes. Ah, how difficult it is! But my lord’s 

honour ah, don’t tempt me! You will take 

me to Athens, won’t you? And then ” 

“ And then,” said I, “ you’ll leave me ? ” 

“Yes,” said Phroso with a little catch in her 
voice. 

“And what shall I do, left alone?” 

“ Go back,” murmured Phroso almost inaudi- 
bly. 

“Go back — thinking of those wonderful eyes?” 

“ No, no. Thinking of ” 

“The lady who waits for me over the sea?” 

“Yes. And, oh, my lord, I pray that you will 
find happiness.” 

There was a moment’s silence ; Phroso did not 
look at me ; but then I did look at Phroso. 

“ Then you refuse, Phroso, to have anything to 
say to me ? ” 

No answer at all reached me; I came nearer, 
being afraid that I might not have heard her re- 
ply. 

“What am I to do for a wife, Phroso?” I 
asked forlornly. “ Because, Phroso 

“Ah, my lord, why do you take my hand 
again ? ” 


410 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


Did I, Phroso ? Because, Phroso, the lady 
who waits over the sea — iPs a charmingly poetic 
phrase, upon my word ! 

“You laugh!'' murmured Phroso in aggrieved 
protest and wonder. 

“ Did I really laugh, Phroso ? Well, Pm 
happy, so I may laugh." 

“ Happy ? " she whispered ; then at last her 
eyes were drawn to mine in mingled hope and 
anguish of questioning. 

“ The lady who waited over the sea," said I, 
“ waits no longer, Phroso." 

The wonderful eyes grew more wonderful in 
their amazed widening; and Phroso, laying a 
hand gently on my arm, said, — 

“ She waits no longer? My lord, she is dead I " 

This confident inference was extremely flatter- 
ing. There was evidently but one thing which 
could end the patient waiting of the lady who 
waited. 

“ On the contrary she thinks that I am. Con- 
stantine spread news of my death." 

“ Ah, yes ! " 

“ He said that I died of fever." 

“And she believes it?" 

“ She does, Phroso ; and she appears to be 
really very sorry." 

“Ah, but what joy will be hers when she 
learns 


411 


A Word of Various Meanings* 

** But, Phroso, before she thought I was dead, 
she had made up her mind to wait no longer/' 

“To wait no longer? What do you mean? 
Ah, my lord, tell me what you mean ! " 

“What has happened to me, here in Neopalia, 
Phroso ? 

“ Many strange things, my lord, — some most 
terrible." 

“ And some most — most what, Phroso ? One 
thing that has happened to me has, I think, hap- 
pened also to the lady who waited." 

Phroso's hand — the one I had not taken — was 
suddenly stretched out, and she spoke in a voice 
that sounded half-stifled, — 

“ Tell me, my lord, tell me. I can't endure it 
longer." 

Then I grew grave and said, — 

“ I am free. She has given me my freedom." 

“ She has set you free? " 

“She loves me no longer, I suppose, if she 
ever did." 

“ Oh, but, my lord, it is impossible." 

“ Should you think it so ? Phroso, it is true — 
true that I can come to you now." 

She understood at last. For a moment she 
was silent, and I, silent also, pierced through the 
darkness to her wondering face. Once she 
stretched out her arms ; then there came a little, 
long, low laugh, and she put her hands together, 


41 ^ Phfoso: A Roiiiahc^t 

and thrust them, thus clasped, between mine that 
closed on them. 

My lord ! my lord ! my lord ! said Phroso. 

Suddenly I heard a low mournful chant coming 
up from the harbour, the moan of mourning 
voices. The sound struck across the stillness 
which had followed her last words. 

What's that ? " I asked. “ What are they 
doing down there?" 

Didn't you know? The bodies of my cousin 
and of Kortes came forth at sunset from the 
secret pool into which they fell ; and they bring 
them now to bury them by the church. They 
mourn Kortes because they loved him ; and Con- 
stantine also they feign to mourn, because he 
was of the house of the Stefanopouloi." 

We stood for some minutes listening to the 
chant that rose and fell and echoed among the 
hills. Its sad cadences, mingled here and there 
with the note of sustained hope, seemed a fitting 
end to. the story, to the stormy days that were 
rounded off at last by peace and joy to us who 
lived, and by the embraces of the all-hiding, all- 
pardoning earth for those who had fallen. I put 
my arm round Phroso, and, thus at last together, 
we listened till the sounds died away in low 
echoes, and silence fell again on the island. 

Ah, the dear island ! " said Phroso softly. 
‘‘You won't take me away from it for ever? It 


A Word of Various Meanings* 413 

is my lord's island now, and it will be faithful to 
him, even as I myself ; for God has been very 
good, and my lord is very good." 

I looked at her ; her cheeks were again wet 
with tears ; as I watched, a drop fell from her 
eyes. I said to her softly, — 

“ That shall be the last, Phroso, till we part 
again." 

A loud cough from the front of the house in- 
terrupted us : I advanced, beckoning to Phroso 
to follow, and wearing, I am afraid, the apologetic 
look usual under such circumstances. And I 
found Denny and the captain. 

‘^Are you coming down to the yacht, 
Charley ? " asked Denny. 

‘‘ Er — in a few minutes, Denny." 

‘‘ Shall I wait for you ? " 

** Oh, I think I can find my way." 

Denny laughed and caught me by the hand ; 
then he passed on to Phroso. I do not, however, 
know what he said to her, for at this moment the 
captain touched my shoulder and demanded my 
attention. 

'' I beg your pardon," said he, ‘‘but you never 
told me the meaning of that word." 

“ What word, my dear captain ? " 

“ Why, the word you used of the lady's letter 
— of what she had done." 

“ Oh, you mean ‘ jilted ' ? " 


414 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


Yes, that's it.” 

It is,” said I, after a moment’s reflection, ‘‘ a 
word of very various meanings.” 

‘"Ah,” said the captain, with a comprehending 
nod. 

“Yes, very various. In one sense it means to 
make a man miserable.” 

“ Yes, I see ; to make him unhappy.” 

“ And in another to make him — to make him, 
captain, the luckiest beggar alive.” 

“ It's a strange word,” observed the captain 
meditatively. 

“ I don't know about that,” said I. “ Good- 
night.” 


CHAPTER XXn. 

One More Run* 

The next morning came bright and beautiful, 
with a pleasant fresh breeze. It was just the day 
for a run in the yacht. So I thought when I 
mounted on deck at eight o’clock in the morn- 
ing. Watkins was there, staring meditatively at 
the harbour and the street beyond. Perceiving 
me, he touched his hat and observed, — 

It’s a queer little place, my lord.” 

My eyes followed the direction of Watkins’s, 
and I gave a slight sigh. 

“ Do you think the island is going to be quiet 
now, Watkins?” I asked. 

I do not think that he quite understood my 
question, for he said that the weather looked 
like being fine. I had not meant the weather ; 
my sigh was paid to the ending of Neopalia’s 
exciting caprices ; for, though the end was pros- 
perous, I was a little sorry that we had come to 
the end. 

The Lady Phroso will come on board about 
ten, and we’ll go for a little run,” I $aid. “Just 
look after some lunch.” 


41 6 Phfoso: A Romance* 

‘‘ Everything will be ready for your lordship 
and her ladyship/' said Watkins. Hitherto he 
had been rather doubtful about Phroso’s claim 
to nobility, but the news of last night planted 
her firmly in the status of ‘‘ ladyship.’’ Has 
your lordship heard/' he continued, ‘‘ that the 
launch is to carry the Governor’s body to Con- 
stantinople ? There she is by the gunboat.” 

“ Oh, yes, I see. They seem to be giving the 
gunboat a rub down, Watkins.” 

‘‘ Not before it was necessary, my lord. A 
dirtier deck I never saw.” 

The gunboat was evidently enjoying a thor- 
ough cleaning ; the sailors, half naked, were 
scouring her decks, and some of the soldiers were 
assisting lazily. 

‘‘ The officers have landed to explore the 
island, my lord. When Mouraki was alive, they 
were not allowed to land at all.” 

“ Mouraki's death makes a good many differ- 
ences, eh, Watkins?” 

“ That it does, my lord,” rejoined Watkins, 
with a decorous smile. 

I left him, and, having landed, strolled up to 
the house. The yacht was to have her steam up 
ready to start by the time I returned. I strolled 
leisurely through the street, such of the islanders 
as I met saluting me in a most friendly fashion. 
Certainly times were changed for me in Neopalia, 


One More Rtin* 


417 

and I chid myself for the ingratitude expressed 
in my sigh. Neopalia in its new placidity was 
very pleasant. 

Very pleasant also was Phroso, as she came to 
meet me from the house, radiant and shy. We 
wasted no time there, but at once returned to 
the harbour, for the dancing water tempted us : 
thus we found ourselves on board an hour before 
the appointed time, and I took Phroso down 
below to show her the cabin, in which, under 
the escort of Kortes’s sister, she was to make 
the voyage. Denny looked in on us for a mo- 
ment, announced that the fires were getting up, 
and that we could start in half an hour. Hog- 
vardt appeared with his account of expenditure, 
and disappeared far more quickly. Meanwhile 
we talked as lovers will — and ought — about 
things that do not need record ; for, not being 
worth remembering, they are ever remembered, 
as is the way of this perverse world. 

Presently, however, Denny hailed me, telling 
me that the captain desired to see me. I begged 
Phroso to stay where she was — I should be back 
in a moment — and went on deck. The captain 
was there, and he began to draw me aside. Per- 
ceiving that he had something to say, I proposed 
to him that we should go to the little smoking- 
room forward. He acquiesced, and as soon as 
we were seated, and Watkins had brought coffee 


4i8 


Phrosoj A Romance# 


and cigarettes, he turned to me with an aspect 
of sincere gratification, as he said, — 

My dear Lord Wheatley, I am rejoiced to 
tell you that I was quite right as to the view 
likely to be taken of your position. I have re- 
ceived by the launch instructions telegraphed to 
Rhodes, and they enable me to set you free at 
once. In point of fact, there is no disposition in 
official quarters to raise any question concerning 
your share in recent events. You are therefore 
at liberty to suit your own convenience entirely, 
and I need not detain you an hour.’’ 

‘‘ My dear captain. I’m infinitely obliged to 
you. Tm much indebted for your good 
offices.” 

‘‘ Indeed, no. I merely reported what had 
occurred. Shall you leave to-day ? ” 

“Oh, no, not for a day or two. To-day, you 
see, I’m going for a little pleasure-expedition. I 
wish you’d join us.” For I felt in a most 
friendly mood towards him. 

“ Indeed I wish I could,” said he with equal 
friendliness. “ But I’m obliged to go up to the 
house at once.” 

“ To the house ? What for ? ” 

“To communicate to the Lady Euphrosyne 
my instructions concerning her.” 

I was about to put a cigarette to my lips, but 
I stopped, suspending it in mid-ain 


One More Run, 


419 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,” said I, but have you 
instructions concerning her?” 

He smiled, and laid a hand on my arm with an 
apologetic air. 

I don't think that there is any cause for seri- 
ous uneasiness,” said he, though the delay will, 
I fear, be someAvhat irksome to you. I must say, 
also, that it is impossible — yes, I admit that it is 
impossible — altogether to ignore the serious dis- 
turbances which have occurred. And these Neo- 
palians are old offenders. Still Tm confident 
that the lady will be most leniently treated, 
especially in view of the relation in which she 
now stands to you.” 

‘‘ What are your instructions ? ” I asked shortly. 

I am instructed to bring her with me, as soon 
as I have made provisional arrangements for the 
order of the island, and to carry her to Smyrna, 
where I am ordered to sail. From there she will 
be sent home, to await the result of an inquiry. 
But pray don't be uneasy. I have no doubt at 
all that she will be acquitted of blame or at least 
escape with a reprimand or a nominal penalty. 
The delay is really the only annoying matter. 
Annoying to you, I mean. Lord Wheatley.” 

“ The delay ? Is it likely to be serious? ” 

“ Well,” admitted the captain with a candid 
air, “ we don’t move hastily in these matters ; 
no, our procedure is not rapid. Still I should 


420 


Phfoso: A Romance* 


say that a year, or, well, perhaps eighteen months, 
would see an end of it. Oh, yes, I really think so.'' 

“Eighteen months?" I cried, aghast. “But 
she'll be my wife long before that ; in eighteen 
days I hope." 

“ Oh, no, no, my dear lord,’’ said he, shaking 
his head soothingly. “ She will certainly not be 
allowed to marry you until these matters are 
settled. But don't be vexed. You're young. 
You can afford to wait. What, after all, is a 
year or eighteen months at your time of life? " 

“ It's a great deal worse," said I, “ than at any 
other time of life." But he only laughed gently 
and gulped down the remainder of his coffee. 
Then he went on in his quiet, placid way, — 

“So I'm afraid I can't join your little excur- 
sion. I must go up to the house at once, and 
acquaint the lady with my instructions. She 
may have some preparations to make, and I must 
take her with me the day after to-morrow. As 
you see, my ship is undergoing some trifling re- 
pairs and cleaning, and I can't be ready to start 
before then." 

I sat silent for a moment or two, smoking my 
cigarette ; and I looked at the placid captain out 
of the corner of my eye. 

“ I really hope you aren't much annoyed, my 
dear Lord Wheatley ? " said he after a moment 
or two. 


One More Run# 


42 s 


^‘Oh, it’s vexatious, of course,*’ I returned 
carelessly, but I suppose there’s no help for it. 
But, captain, I don’t see why you shouldn’t join 
us to-day. We shall be back in the afternoon, 
and it will be plenty of time then to inform 
the Lady Phroso. She’s not a fashionable 
woman who wants forty-eight hours to pack her 
gowns.” 

‘‘ It’s certainly a lovely morning for a little 
cruise,” said the captain longingly. 

‘‘And I want to point out to you the exact 
spot where Demetri killed the Pasha.” 

“ That would certainly be very interesting.” 

“ Then you’ll come ? ” 

“You’re certain to be back in time for ? ” 

“ Oh, you’ll have plenty of time to talk to 
Phroso. I’ll see to that. You can send a mes- 
sage to her now, if you like.” 

“ I don’t think that’s necessary. If I see her 
this afternoon ” 

“ I promise you that you shall.” 

“ But aren’t you going to see her to-day ? I 
thought you would spend the day with her.” 

“ Oh, I shall hope to see her too ; you won’t 
monopolise her, you know. Just now I’m for a 
cruise.” 

“ You’re a philosophical lover,” he laughed. I 
laughed also, shrugging my shoulders. 

“Then if you’ll excuse me — no, don’t move, 


422 Phfoso : A Romance# 

don't move — I’ll give orders for our start, and 
come back for another cigarette with you.” 

‘‘You’re most obliging,” said he, and sank 
back on the seat that ran round the little saloon. 

At what particular point in the conversation 
which I have recorded my resolution was de- 
finitely taken, I cannot say ; but it was complete 
and full-blown before the captain accepted my 
invitation. The certainty of a separation of such 
monstrous length from Phroso, and the chance of 
her receiving harsh treatment, were more than I 
could consent to contemplate. I must play for 
my own hand. The island meant to be true to 
its nature to the last ; my departure from it was to 
be an escape, not a decorous leave-taking. I was 
almost glad ; yet I hoped that I should not get 
my good friend the captain into serious trouble. 
Well, better the captain than Phroso, anyhow ; 
and I laughed to myself when I thought of how 
I should redeem my promise and give him plenty 
of time to talk to Phroso. 

I ran rapidly up to the deck ; Denny and Hog- 
vardt were there. 

“ How soon can you have full steam up?” I 
asked in an urgent, cautious whisper. 

“ In ten minutes now,” said Hogvardt, suddenly 
recognising my eagerness. 

Why, what’s up, man ? ” asked Denny. 

They’re going to send Phroso to Constants 


One More Run, 


423 


nople to be tried ; anyhow they’d keep her there 
a year or more. I don’t mean to stand it.” 

‘‘ Why, what will you do ? ” 

Do ? Go. The captain’s on board ; the gun- 
boat can’t overtake us. Besides, they won’t sus- 
pect anything on board of her. Denny, run and 
tell Phroso not to show herself till I bid her. 
The captain thinks she’s up at the house. We’ll 
start as soon as you’re ready. Hog.” 

But, my lord ” 

Charley, old man ! ” 

‘‘ I tell you I won’t stand it. Are you game 
or aren’t you ?” 

Denny paused for a moment, poising himself 
on his heels. 

What a lark ! ” he exclaimed then. All 
right. I’ll put Phroso up to it,” — and he disap- 
peared in the direction of her cabin. 

I stood for a moment looking at the gunboat, 
where the leisurely operations went on undis- 
turbed, and at the harbour and street beyond. I 
shook my head reprovingly at Neopalia ; the 
little island was always leading me into indiscre- 
tions. Then I turned and made my way back to 
where my unsuspecting victim was peacefully 
consuming cigarettes. Mouraki Pasha would not 
have been caught like this ! Heaven be thanked, 
I was not dealing with Mouraki Pasha. 

‘‘Demetri had some good in him, after all,” I 


424 


Phroso: A Romance* 


thought, as I sat down by the captain and 
told him that we should be under way in five 
minutes. He exhibited much satisfaction at the 
prospect. 

The five minutes passed; Hogvardt, who 
acted as our skipper, gave his orders to our new 
and smiling crew of islanders. We began to 
move. The captain and I came up from below 
and stood on deck. He looked seaward, antici- 
pating his excursion, I landward reviewing mine. 
A few boys waved their hands, a woman or two 
her handkerchief ; the little harbour began to re- 
cede ; the old grey house on the hill faced me in 
its renewed tranquillity. 

‘‘Well, good-bye to Neopalia!"' I had said 
with a sigh, before I knew it. 

‘‘I beg your pardon, Lord Wheatley?’’ said 
the captain, wheeling round. 

For a few hours,” I added ; and I went for- 
ward and began to talk with Hogvardt ; I had 
some things to arrange with him. Presently 
Watkins appeared, announcing luncheon. I re- 
joined the captain. 

‘‘ I thought,” said I, that we’d have a run 
straight out first and look at Mouraki’s death- 
place on our way home.” 

“ I’m entirely in your hands,” said he most 
courteously, and with more truth than he was 
aware of. 


One More Run* 


42S 

Denny, he, and I went down to our meal. I 
plied the captain with the best of our cheer ; in 
the safe seclusion of the yacht, champagne-cup, 
mixed as Watkins alone could mix it, overcame 
his religious scruples ; the breach once made 
grew wider, and the captain became merry. 
With his coffee came placidity, and on placidity 
followed torpor. Meanwhile the yacht bowled 
merrily along. 

‘‘ It's nearly two o’clock," said I. “We ought 
to be turning. I say, captain, wouldn’t you like 
a nap ? I’ll wake you long before we get to 
Neopalia.’’ 

Denny smiled indiscreetly at this form of 
promise, and I covertly nudged him into gravity. 

The captain received my proposal with apolo. 
getic gratitude. We left him curled up on the 
seat and went on deck. Hogvardt was at the 
wheel ; a broad smile spread over his face. 

“At this rate, my lord,’’ said he, “we shall 
make Cyprus in no time.’’ 

“ Good,’’ said I ; and I did two things. I 
called Phroso and I loaded my revolver. A show 
of overwhelming force is, as we often hear, the 
surest guarantee of peace. 

Denny now took a turn at the wheel ; old Hog- 
vardt went to eat his dinner ; Phroso appeared, 
and she and I sat down in fhe stern, watching 
where Neopalia lay, now a little spot on the hori- 


426 


Phfoso: A Romance 


zon. And then I myself told Phroso in my own 
way why I had so sorely neglected her all the 
morning, for Denny’s explanation had been sum- 
mary and confused. She was fully entitled to 
my excuses, and had come on deck in a state of 
delightful resentment, too soon, alas, banished 
by surprise and apprehension. 

An hour or two passed thus very pleasantly ; 
for the terror of Constantinople soon reconciled 
Phroso to every risk ; her only fear was that she 
would never again be allowed to land in Neopa- 
lia. For this also I tried to console her and was, 
I am proud to say, succeeding very tolerably, 
when I looked up at the sound of footsteps. They 
came evenly towards us ; then they suddenly 
stopped dead. I felt for my revolver ; and I ob- 
served Denny carelessly strolling up, having been 
relieved again by Hogvardt. The captain stood 
motionless, three yards from where Phroso and I 
sat together. I rose with an easy smile. 

‘‘ I hope you’ve enjoyed your nap, captain,” 
said I ; and at the same moment I covered him 
with my barrel. 

He was astounded ; indeed, well he might be. 
He stared helplessly at Phroso and at me. 
Denny was at his elbow now, and took his arm in 
tolerant good-humour. 

You soe we’ve played a little game on you,” 
said Denny. “ Wc couldn’t let the lady go to 


One More Run^ 

Constantinople. It isn't at all a fit place for her, 
you know." 

I stepped up to the amazed man and told him 
briefly what had occurred. 

'‘Now, captain," I went on, "resistance is 
quite useless. We’re running for Cyprus. It 
belongs to you, I believe, in a sense — I’m not a 
student of foreign affairs — but I think we shall 
very likely find an English ship there. Now, if 
you’ll give your word to hold your tongue when 
we’re at Cyprus, you may lodge as many com- 
plaints as you like directly we leave ; indeed I 
think you’d be wise, in your own interests, to 
make a protest ; meanwhile we can enjoy the 
cruise in good fellowship." 

"And if I refuse? ’’ he asked. 

" If you refuse," said I, " I shall be compelled 
to get rid of you — oh, don’t misunderstand me, I 
shall not imitate your Governor. But it’s a fine 
day ; we have an excellent gig ; and I can spare 
you two hands to row you back to Neopalia or 
wherever else you may choose to go." 

"You would leave me in the gig?" 

" With the deepest regret," said I, bowing^ 
" But I am obliged to put this lady’s safety 
above the pleasure of your society." 

The unfortunate man had no alternative, and, 
true to the creed of his nation, he accepted the 
inevitable. Taking the cigarette from between 


42 ^ Phfoso: A Romance* 

his lips, he remarked, “ I give the promise you 
ask, but nothing more,*' bowed to Phroso, and, 
going up to her, said very prettily, Madame, I 
congratulate you on a resolute lover." 

Now hardly had this happened when our look- 
out man called twice in quick succession, Ship 
ahead ! " At once we all ran forward, and I 
snatched Denny’s binocular from him. There 
were two vessels visible, one approaching on the 
starboard bow, the other right ahead. They 
appeared to be about equally distant. I scanned 
them eagerly through the glass, the others stand- 
ing round and waiting my report. Nearer they 
came, and nearer. 

‘‘They’re both ships of war,’’ said I, without 
taking the glass from my eyes. “ I shall be able 
to see the flags in a minute.’’ 

A hush of excited suspense witnessed to the 
interest of my news. I found even the impassive 
captain close by my elbow, as though he were 
trying to get one eye on to the lens of the glass. 

My next remark did nothing to lessen the ex- 
citement. 

“The Turkish flag, by Jove!" I cried; and, 
quick as thought, followed from the captain, — 

“ My promise didn’t cover that. Lord Wheat- 
ley." 

“ Shall we turn and run for it ? asked Denny 
in a whisper. 


One Mote Run* 429 

‘‘ They'd think that queer," cautioned Hog- 
vardt, and if she came after us, we shouldn’t 
have a chance." 

‘‘The English flag, by Jupiter!" I cried a 
second later, and I took the glass from my 
strained eyes. The captain caught eagerly at it 
and looked ; then he also dropped it and said, — 

“ Yes, Turkish and English ; both will come 
within hail of us." 

“ It’s a race, by Heaven ! ’’ cried Denny. 

The two vessels were approaching us almost 
on the same course, for each had altered half a 
point, and both were now about half a point on 
our starboard bow. They would be very close 
to one another by the time they came up with 
us ; it would be almost impossible for us, by any 
alteration of our course, to reach one before the 
other. 

“Yes, it’s a race," said I, and I felt Phroso’s 
arm passed through mine. She knew the mean- 
ing of the race. Possession is nine points of the 
law, and in a case so doubtful as hers it was very 
unlikely that the ship which got possession of 
her would surrender her to the other. Which 
ship was it to be ? 

“ Are we going to cause an international com- 
plication ? " asked Denny in a longing tone. 

“We shall very likely run into a nautical one, 
if we don’t look out," said I. 


430 Phfoso: A Romance* 

However, the two approaching vessels seemed 
to become aware of this danger, for they diverged 
from one another, so that, if we kept a straight 
course, we should now pass them by, one on the 
port side and one on the starboard. But we 
should pass within a couple of hundred yards of 
both ; and that was well in earshot on such a 
day. I looked at the captain, and the captain 
looked at me. 

‘‘ Shall we take him below and smother him ? ’’ 
whispered Denny. 

I did not feel at liberty to adopt the sugges- 
tion, much to my regret. The agreement I had 
made with the captain precluded any assault on 
his liberty. I had omitted to provide for the 
case which had occurred. Well, that was my 
fault, and I must stand the consequences of it. 
My word was pledged to him that he should be 
treated in all friendliness on one condition, and 
that he had satisfied. Now to act as Denny 
suggested would not be to treat him in all friend- 
liness. I shook my head sadly. Hogvardt 
shouted for orders from the wheel. 

‘‘ What am I to do, my lord ? '' he cried. Full 
speed ahead ? 

I looked at the captain. I knew he would not 
pass the Turkish ship without trying to attract 
her attention. We were within a quarter of a 
mile of the vessels now. 


One More Run* 


43 ^ 

Stop,” I called, and I added quickly, Lowef 
away the gig, Denny.” 

Denny caught my purpose in a moment ; ha 
called a hand and they set to work. The pace 
of the yacht began to slacken. I glanced at the 
two ships. Men with glasses were peering at 
us from either deck, wondering no doubt what 
our manoeuvre meant. But the captain knew as 
well as Denny what it meant, and he leaped for- 
ward suddenly and hailed the Turk in his native 
tongue. What he said I don't know, but it 
caused a great pother on deck, and they ran up 
some signal or other : I never remember the code, 
and the book was not about me. 

But now the gig was down and the yacht mo- 
tionless. Looking again, I perceived that both 
the ships had shut off steam, and were reversing, 
to arrest their course the sooner. I seized 
Phroso by the arm. The captain turned for a 
moment as though to interrupt our passage. 

It's as much as your life is worth,” said I, 
and he gave way. Then, to my amazement, he 
ran to the side, and, just as he was, leaped over- 
board and struck out towards the Turk. One in- 
stant later I saw why : they were lowering a boat. 
Alas, our ship was not so eager. The captain 
must have shouted something very significant. 

Signal for a boat. Hog,” I cried. ‘‘And then 
come along. Hi, Watkins, come on! Are you 


432 


Phfoso; A Romance* 


ready, Denny ? And I fairly lifted Phroso in 
my arms and ran with her to the side. She was 
breathing quickly, and a little laugh gurgled 
from her lips as Denny received her from my 
arms into his in the gig. 

But we were not safe yet. The Turk had got 
a start, and his boat was springing merrily over 
the waves towards us. The captain swam power- 
fully and gallantly ; his fez-covered head bobbed 
gaily up and down. ‘Ah, now our people were 
moving! And when they began to move they 
wasted no time. We wasted none either, but 
bent to our oars. And for the second time since 
I reached Neopalia I had a thorough good buck- 
eting. But for the Turk’s start we should have 
managed it easily, as we rowed towards the Eng- 
lish boat, and the divergence which the vessels 
had made in their course prevented the two from 
approaching us side by side : but the start was 
enough to make matters equal. Now the boat 
and the captain met : he was in in a second, with 
wonderful agility ; picking him up hardly lost 
them a stroke. They were coming straight at 
us, the captain standing in the stern, urging them 
on. But now I saw that the middy in the Eng- 
lish boat had caught the idea that there was 
some fun afoot : for he also stood up and urged 
on his crew. The two great ships lay motionless 
on the water, and gave us all their attention. 


One More Run* 


433 

** Pull, boys, pull ! ” I cried. It’s all right, 
Phroso, we shall do it ! ” 

Should we ? And, if we did not, would the 
English captain fight for my Phroso ? I would 
have sunk the Turk with a laugh for her. But 
I was afraid that he would not be so obliging as 
to do it for me. 

‘‘The Turk gains,” said Hogvardt, who was 
our coxswain. 

“ Hang him ! Put your backs into it.” 

On went the three boats : the two pursuers 
were now converging close on us. 

“ We shall do it by a few yards,” said Hog- 
vardt. 

“ Thank God ! ” I muttered. 

“ No, we shall be beaten by a few yards,” he 
said a moment later. “ They pull well, those 
fellows.” 

But we too pulled well then, though I have no 
right to say it. And the good little middy and 
his men did their duty — oh, what a tip those 
blue-jackets should have if they did the trick ! — 
and the noses of all the boats seemed to be tend- 
ing to one spot on the bright dancing sea. To 
one spot indeed they were tending. The Turks 
were no more than twenty yards off, the English 
perhaps thirty. The captain gave one last cry 
of exhortation, the middy responded with a 
hearty oath. We strained and tugged for dear 


434 


Pliroso: A Romance# 


life. They were on us now — the Turks a little 
first. Now they were ten yards off — now five — 
and the English yet ten ! 

But for a last stroke we pulled ; and then I 
dropped my oars and sprang to my feet. The 
nose of the captain's boat was within a yard, and 
they were backing water so as not to run into us. 
The middy had given alike order. For a single 
instant matters seemed to stand still and we to 
be poised between defeat and victory. Then, 
even as the captain's hand was on our gunwale, I 
bent and caught Phroso up in the arms that she 
sprang to meet, and I fairly flung her across the 
narrow strait of water that parted us from the 
English boat. Six strong and eager arms re- 
ceived her, and a cheer rang out from the Eng- 
lish ship ; for they saw now that it had been a 
race — and a race for a lady. And I, seeing her 
safe, turned to the captain, and said, — 

‘‘Fetch her back from there, if you can, and 
be damned to you." 


OiAPTER XXm 
The Island in a Cainu 

We did not fight. My friend the captain prOw 
posed to rely on his British confrere s sense of 
justice and of the courtesy which should obtain 
between two great and friendly nations. To this 
end he accompanied us on board the ship and 
laid his case before Captain Beverley, R. N. My 
argument, which I stated with brevity but not 
without vehemence, was threefold : first, that 
Phroso had committed no offence ; secondly, that 
if she had, it was a political offence ; thirdly — was 
Captain Beverley going to hand over to a crew 
of dirty Turks the prettiest girl in the Mediter- 
ranean ? This last point made a decided impres- 
sion on the officers who were assisting their com- 
mander’s deliberations, but it won from him no 
more than a tolerant smile and a glance through 
his pince-nez at Phroso, who sat at the table op- 
posite to him, awaiting the award of justice. 
After I had, in the heat of discussion, called the 
Turks dirty,” I moved round to my friend the 
captain, apologised humbly, and congratulated 
him on his gallant and spirited behaviour. He 


436 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


received my advances with courtesy, but firmly 
restated his claim to Phroso. Captain Beverley 
appeared a little puzzled. 

And, to add to it all,'' he observed to me, I 
thought you were dead." For I had told him 
my name. 

‘‘Not all all," said I resentfully. “I am quite 
alive, and I'm going to marry this lady." 

“You intend to marry her. Lord Wheatley?" 

“ She has done me the honour to consent, and 
I certainly intend it — unless you're going to send 
her off to Constantinople or heaven knows 
where." 

Beverley arched his brows, but it was not his 
business to express an opinion, and I heartily for- 
gave him his hinted disapproval when he said to 
the captain, — 

“ I really don’t see how I can do what you 

ask. If you had won the tr I mean, if you 

had succeeded in taking the lady on board, I 
should have had no more to say. As it is, I don't 
think I can do anything but carry her to a Brit- 
ish port. You can prefer your claim to extradi- 
tion before the Court there, if you're so advised." 

“ Bravo ! " cried Denny. 

“ Be good enough to hold your tongue, sir," 
said Captain Beverley. 

“ At least you will take a note of my demand,'’ 
urged the Turk. 


The Island in a Calm* 


437 


With the utmost pleasure/’ responded Cap- 
tain Beverley, and then and there he took a note. 
People seem often to find some mystical com- 
fort in having a note taken, though no other 
consequence appears likely to ensue. Then the 
captain, being comforted by his note, took his 
farewell. I walked with him to the side of the 
vessel. 

** I hope you bear no malice,” said I, as I held 
out my hand, ‘‘and that this affair won’t get you 
into any trouble.” 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said he. “Your in- 
genuity will be my excuse.” 

“You’re very good. I hope you’ll come and 
see us in Neopalia some day.” 

“You expect to return to Neopalia?” 

“ Certainly. It’s mine — or Phroso’s — I don’t 
know which.” 

“ There’s such a thing as forfeiture in our law,” 
he observed ; and with this Parthian shot he 
walked down and got into his boat. But I was 
not much frightened. 

So, the Turk being thus disposed of, Denny 
and Hogvardt went back to the yacht, while 
Phroso, Watkins, and I, took up our abode on the 
ship. And when Captain Beverley had heard 
the whole story of our adventures in Neopalia he 
was so overcome by Phroso’s gallant conduct 
that he walked up and down his own deck with 


43 ^ 


Phroso: A Romance# 


her all the evening, while I, making friends 
with the mammon of unrighteousness, pretended 
to look very pleased and recited my dealings 
with Mouraki to an attentive group of officers. 
And clothes were produced from somewhere for 
Phroso — our navy is ready for everything — and 
thus in the fullness of time we came to Malta. 
Here the captain had a wife ; and she was as de- 
lighted as — I take leave to say — all good women 
ought to be at the happy ending of our story ; 
and at Malta we waited. But nothing happened. 
No claim was made for Phroso’s extradition ; 
and I may as well state here that no claim ever 
has been made. But when we came to London, 
on board a P. and O. steamer, in charge of a 
benevolent but strict chaperon, I lost no time in 
calling on the Turkish Ambassador. I desired 
to put matters on a satisfactory footing at once. 
He received me with much courtesy, but ex- 
pressed the opinion that Phroso and I alike had 
forfeited any claim which she or I, or either, or 
both, of us, might have possessed to the island of 
Neopalia. I was very much annoyed at this 
attitude ; I rose and stood with my back to the 
fire. 

‘‘ It is the death of Mouraki Pasha that has so 
incensed your Government?’* I ventured to ask. 

He was a very distinguished man,” observed 
the Ambassador. 


The Island in a Calm* 


439 

Practically banished to a very undistinguished 
office — for his position/’ I remarked. 

“One would not call it banishment,” mur- 
mured his Excellency. 

“ One would,” I acquiesced, smiling, “ of course 
be particularly careful not to call it banishment.” 

Something like a smile greeted this speech, but 
the Ambassador shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Consider,” said he, “ the scenes of disorder 
and bloodshed ! ” 

“ When I consider,” I rejoined, “the scenes of 
disorder and bloodshed which passed before my 
eyes; when I consider the anarchy, the mur- 
der, the terrible dangers to which I, who went 
to Neopalia under the sanction and protection of 
your flag, was exposed, I perceive that the whole 
affair is nothing less than a European scandal.” 

The Ambassador shifted in his arm-chair. 

“ I shall, of course,” said I, “ prefer a claim to 
compensation.” 

“ To compensation ? ” 

“ Certainly. My island has been taken from 
me and I have lost my money. Moreover your 
Governor tried to kill me.” 

“So did your wife,” remarked the Pasha. “At 
least the lady who, as I understand, is to be 
your wife.” 

“ I can forgive my wife. I do not propose to 
forgive your Government.” 


440 


Phfoso: A Romance# 


The Ambassador stroked his beard. 

If official representations were made through 
the proper quarters ” he began. 

“ Oh, come,” I interrupted, I want to spend 
my honeymoon there ; and Fm going to be mar- 
ried in a fortnight.” 

‘‘ The young lady is the difficulty. The man- 
ner in which you left Neopalia ” 

— is not generally known,” said I. 

The Ambassador looked up. 

“ The tribute,” I observed, ‘‘ is due a month 
hence. I don’t know who’ll pay it you.” 

‘‘ It is but a trifling sum,” said he contempt- 
uously. 

‘‘ It is indeed small for such a delightful island.” 

The Ambassador eyed me questioningly, I 
advanced towards him. 

'' Considering,” said I, ‘‘ that I have only paid 
half the purchase money, and that the other half 
is due to nobody — or to my own wife — I should 
not resent a proposal to double the tribute.” 

The Ambassador reflected. 

I will forward your proposal to the proper 
quarter,” he said at last. 

I smiled ; and I asked, — 

‘‘Will that take more than a fortnight?” 

“ I venture to hope not.” 

“And, of course, pardon and all that sort of 
thing will be included.” 


The Island in a Cainu 44* 

“ I will appeal to his Majesty’s clemency/’ 
promised the Pasha. 

I had no objection to his calling it by that 
name, and I took my leave, very much pleased 
with the result of the interview. But, as luck 
would have it, while I was pursuing my way 
across Hyde Park — for Phroso was staying with 
a friend of Mrs. Beverley’s in Kensington — I 
ran plump into the arms of Mrs. Kennett Hip- 
grave. 

She stopped me with decision ; I confess that 
I tried to pass by her. 

‘‘ My dear Lord Wheatley,” she cried with un- 
bounded cordiality, ‘‘ how charming to meet you 
again! Your reported death really caused quite 
a gloom.” 

‘‘You’re too good,” I murmured. “Ah 

er — — I hope Miss Beatrice is well?” 

Mrs. Kennett Hipgrave’s face grew grave and 
sympathetic. 

“ My poor child I ” she sighed. “ She was 
terribly upset by the news. Lord Wheatley. Of 
course, it seemed to her peculiarly sad ; for you 
had received my letter only a week before.” 

“ That must have seemed to aggravate the 
pathos very much,” I agreed’. 

“ Not that, of course, it altered the real wisdom 
of the step I advised her to take.” 

“ Not in the least, really, of course,” said I. 


442 Phfoso; A Romance* 

“ I do hope you agree with me now, Lord 
Wheatley 

^‘Yes, I think I have come to see that you 
were right, Mrs. Hipgrave.’’ 

Oh, that makes me so happy ! And it will 
make my poor dear child so happy, too. I assure 
you she has fretted very much over it.” 

I’m sorry to hear that,” said I politely. Is 
she in town ? ” 

Why, no, not just now.” 

Where is she ? I should like to write her a 
line.” 

Oh, she’s staying with friends.” 

Could you oblige me with the address ? ” 

‘‘Well the fact is, Lord Wheatley Be- 
atrice is staying with with a Mrs. Hamlyn.” 

“ Oh a Mrs. Hamlyn ! Any relation, Mrs. 

Hipgrave?” 

“Well, yes. In fact, an aunt of our common 
friend.” 

“ Ah, an aunt of our common friend ; ” and I 
smiled. Mrs. Hipgrave struggled nobly, but in 
the end she smiled also. After a little pause I 
remarked, — 

“I’m going to be married myself, Mrs. Hip- 
grave.” 

Mrs. Hipgrave grew rather grave again, and 
she observed, — 

“ I did hear something about a a, lady, 

Lord Wheatley.” 


The Island in a Calm* 


443 


** If you had heard it all, you’d have heard a 
great deal about her.” 

A certain appearance of embarrassment spread 
over Mrs. Hipgrave’s face. 

We’re old friends, Lord Wheatley,” she said 
at last. I bowed in grateful recognition. I’m 
sure you won’t mind if I speak plainly to you. 
Now, is she the sort of person whom you would 
be really wise to. marry? Remember, your wife 
will be Lady Wheatley.” 

I had not forgotten that that would happen,” 
I said. 

‘‘ I’m told,” pursued Mrs. Hipgrave, in a some- 
what scornful tone, “ that she is very pretty.” 

** But then that’s not really of importance, is 
it ? ” I murmured. 

Mrs. Hipgrave looked at me with just a touch 
of suspicion ; but she went on bravely, — 

And one or two very curious things have 
been said.” 

‘‘ Not to me,” I observed with infinite amia- 
bility. 

** Her family now ^?” 

‘‘Her family was certainly a drawback; but 
there are no more of them, Mrs. Hipgrave.” 

“ Then somebody told me that she was in the 
habit of wearing ” 

“ Dear me, Mrs. Hipgrave, in these days every- 
body does that — more or Jess, you know.” 


444 


Phroso: A Romance* 


Mrs. Hipgrave sighed pathetically, and added 
with a slight shudder, — 

** They say she carried a dagger.” 

** They'll say anything,” I reminded her. 

‘‘At any rate,” said Mrs. Hipgrave, “ she will 
be quite unused to the ways of Society.” 

“ Oh, we shall teach her, we shall teach her,” 
said I cheerfully. “ After all, it's only a differ- 
ence of method. When people in Neopalia are 
annoyed, they put a knife into you ” 

“ Good gracious. Lord Wheatley ! ” 

‘Here,” I pursued, “ they congratulate you ; 
but it’s the same principle. Won't you wish me 
joy, Mrs. Hipgrave?” 

“If you're really bent upon it, I suppose I 
must.” 

“ And you'll tell the dear children ? ” I asked 
anxiously. 

“ The dear children ? ” she echoed ; she cer- 
tainly suspected me by now. 

“ Why, yes. Your daughter and Bennett 
Hamlyn, you know.” 

Mrs. Hipgrave surveyed me from top to toe ; 
her aspect was very severe. Then she delivered 
herself of the following remark, — 

“ I can never be sufficently thankful,” she said, 
with eyes upturned towards the sky, “ that my 
poor dear girl found out her mistake in time.” 

“ I have the utmost regard for Miss Beatrice,” 


The Island in a Calm* 445 

I rejoined, ‘‘but I will not differ from you, Mrs, 
Hipgrave/' 

I must shift the scene again, back to the island 
that I loved. For his Majesty's clemency justi- 
fied the Ambassador's belief in it, and Neopalia 
was restored to Phroso and to me. Thither we 
went in the spring of the next year, leaving 
Denny inconsolable behind, but accompanied by 
old Hogvardt and by Watkins. This time we 
went straight out by sea from England, and the 
new crew of my yacht was more trustworthy 
than when Spiro and Demetri (ah, I had nearly 
written “ poor " Demetri — when the fellow was a 
murderer!) were sent by the cunning of Con- 
stantine Stefanopoulos to compose it. We 
landed this time to meet no threatening looks ; 
the death-chant that One-eyed Alexander wrote 
was not raised when we entered the old grey 
house on the hill, looking over the blue waters. 
Ulysses is fabled by the poet to have — well, to 
put it plainly — to have grown bored with peace- 
ful Ithaca. I do not know whether I shall prove 
an Ulysses in that and live to regret the new- 
born tranquillity of Neopalia. In candour, the 
early stormy days have a great attraction and I 
love to look back to them in memory. So strong 
was this feeling upon me that it led me to refuse 
a request of my wife’s — the only one of hers 


Phfoso; A Romance* 


445 

which I have yet met in that fashion. For when 
we had been two or three days in the island (I 
spent one, by the way, in visiting the graves of 
my dead friends and enemies, — a most suggestive 
and soothing occupation) I saw, as I walked with 
her through the hall of our house, mason's tools 
and mortar lying near where the staircase led up, 
hard by the secret door. And Phroso said to 
me, — 

Pm sure you'd like to have that horrible 
secret passage blocked up, Charley. It's full of 
terrible memories." 

My dear Phroso, wall up the passage ? ** 

‘‘We sha'n't want it now," said she with a 
laugh — and something else. 

“ It's true," I admitted, “ that I intend, as far 
as possible, to rule by constitutional means in 
Neopalia. Still one never knows. My dearest, 
have you no romance ? " 

“No," said Phroso shamelessly. “ IVe had 
enough romance. I want to live quietly ; and I 
don't want to push any one over into that awful 
pool, where poor Kortes fell." 

I stood looking at the boards under the stair- 
case; presently I knelt down and touched the 
spring. The boards rolled away, the passage 
gaped before us, and I put my arm round Phroso, 
as I said, — 

“ Now, heaven forbid that I should lay a mod- 


The Island in a Calm* 


447 


ern sacrilegious hand on the Secret of the Ste- 
fanopouloi! For the world makes many circles, 
Phroso, — forward sometimes, sometimes back ; 
and it is something to know that here in Neopa- 
lia we are ready, and that if any man attacks our 
sovereignty, why, let him look out for the Secret 
of the Stefanopouloi ! In certain moods, Phroso, 
I should be capable of coming back from the 
chasm — alone ! 

So Phroso, on my entreaty, spared the pas- 
sage ; and even now, when the shades of middle 
age (a plague on ’em) are deepening, and the wild 
doings of the purchaser of Neopalia grow golden 
in distant memory, I like to walk to the edge of 
the chasm and recall all that it has seen : the 
contests, the dark tricks, the sudden deaths, — 
aye, to travel back from the fearful struggle of 
Kortes and Constantine on the flying bridge to 
that long-ago time when the Baron d’Ezonville 
was so lucky as to be set adrift in his shirt, while 
Stefan Stefanopoulos’ headless trunk was dashed 
into the dim water and One-eyed Alexander the 
Bard wrote the chant of death. Ah me! that 
was two hundred years ago ! 


THE END. 




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